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The Street: Back in Black, Jack!

In my endless pursuit to find something to do that i am vaguely qualified for - being a bouncer is not one of those things, and seeing as it is Christmas, the opportunity once again arose to work as a croupier at corporate parties. Last year i did this while working TheBrothersbar and they accepted the late roll-ups because they were still new on The Street, and because i turned up in a tuxedo. This time around Mr.Mac10 had advised me that he had no problem with a similar arrangement.

Skipper on the other hand was less than impressed because "no-one knew" which was shit because BigJ knew and Mr Mac10 knew, i refuse to take the blame because Mac10 got shipped to Iraq and no-one listens to BigJ. So i got yelled at because Skipper likes yelling at people when he gets half a chance, "i'm the boss, you're supposed to tell me" and when i irritably told him that last time something like this came up, he told me to tell the manager (the Indian for that night) and when he was moved to another bar (we are part of a greater organisation of three and i use the term organisation loosely), this information was lost, and i got yelled at that time too. He walked off because he had other things to attend to.

The party was more of the same, something for car dealerships i can assume from the info on the name tags. Keeping a rough score over the night both from the starting and ending chipcount (over by ~$3000), plus the tickets i took in ($31,000), minus the credit cheques i cashed out (~$12,000) i was in regular form and fleeced just about everyone. If i could get a commission on my table, i would go back to a casino in a heartbeat.
"six, eleven, twenty-one."
Anguished cries from the punters.
"ten, sixteen, twenty-one".
More cries of pain.
"six-sixteen, twenty-one".
Groans.
"blackjack."
Glares and dark mutterings.
That was an entertaining string of hands.

When i got to The Street, courtesy of whisperer12 who responded to my Summon Transport Elemental spell and got me to and from Addison Circle, BigJ was yelling at Mr.Useless who LilJosh was hired to replace at the door over at Ocean Fart. Skipper keeps him employed because MrU needs to keep paying rent - to Skipper.

Apparently, there was a six-man altercation in the bar, and while BigJ was in the thick of it, MrU watched from the door. I am going to be of little help in a fight, but there's no way i would watch a workmate in one from a distance. BigJ was about as angry as i have seen him, he's scary most of the time, angry is not a good look. MrU scuttled back to Ocean Fart and Skipper pointed at me, "You. Here." indicating the front door. This effectively ended his yelling at me, and BigJ's angry words at MrU.

For some reason i smelt pot the entire night, probably coming from Miilke. I picked up an ID of a girl, and Marko from next door thought it was ok when i showed it to him, and the cop i offered it to also told me it was fine, and refused to scan it to prove me wrong. The city's finest at their finest.

He had things to do later in the night as there was some blow-up at Miilke and people fleeing in all directions, because one girl hit another girl in the head with a bottle. There was a lot of claret, a lot of shouting and carrying on in Spanish and English, and lots of cops as usual. They were cuffing pretty much anyone who came out of the bar with an attitude or yelling. This was about 0150 and i just wanted it all to end, because my fingers and toes were tingling from the cold. They seemed to uncuff most of them and let them all go once the figurative smoke cleared. The cop with the pretty red sash and the paintball gun filled with pepper rounds was wandering around and eventually helped out by keeping a garbage-tie-cuffed hispanic couple covered while they lay on the ground.

Skipper came and banged on the door right then, and told me to get BigJ to watch the door and for me to get over to The tough kids bar immediately. I get up there and their door guy JesusJames looks at me blankly. He has no idea why Skipper sent me over there, "i mean there was a situation, but i got it handled." I am about to turn around when BigJ looms over my shoulder, also wondering what was up. Skipper turns up and sends me back to the door which is where i should have been anyway, and a few minutes later BigJ returns, shrugging his huge shoulders.

We clear the bar well after we should have, because a) the DJ played until ten past, and b) the bloody indians won't leave because they're ALL friends of The Indian, and c) seem to be unable to walk and talk / exchange phone numbers at the same time. BigJ yells at everyone, i yell at a few individuals, because i can also lose my temper (i can also loose my temper but that's a different issue).

Skipper turns up while we are all sitting around having a drink, and tells us that some guy had a pistol in The Tough Kids Bar. i think i want to go back to the other side of The Street, where the only time i heard gun mentioned was because of that psycho Mr.Handcuffs, at least he has a license to carry one, and it's a simple pistol, unlike Mr.Mac10 and the random customers that seem to think bringing handguns into a bar is a good thing. Sure, i'm in Texas, but this ain't the Wild Wild West no more.

My shoulder is tired as i tore through dealing for pretty much three hours straight. We had no swing dealer, and i did not want to close the table for a break and disappoint my adoring customers. I haven't dealt for almost a year so there are a number of vastly underused muscles that will be complaining in the morning. I am tired and i am sure i have a cold from all the hours in the 20 and 30 degree temperatures of the last few days.

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