I need to run a tight ship. I also need trap doors and shit like that to get rid of the teenage douchebags ruining my reputation. Porky will take care of all that business while I get ridiculously bombed in the VIP room (a table sitting on top of another table in the middle of the room). All his pigs and floppy titted women have to stay in his office though.
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I love a good mix. The Dan Band will deliver all the top hits from the pop chart. What I love more is randomly inserting swear words into songs that don’t need them. I do this constantly in my car. “You give love a fucking bad name, motherfucker!” No idea why this soothes me, or why I laugh by myself almost every time. Car rides with me and myself are awesome.
No-brainer here, really. There’s no better way to discourage fights than to beat the shit out of as many patrons as possible before the lights come on. As an added incentive I will double Dalton’s nightly pay every time he rips somebody’s throat out.
We need ladies in the PM. Who better to line them up around the block? He’ll have one jar for tips and one for panties (we all split the pot at the end of the night). Be warned though, Brian, the first time you start that flippity dippity shit and break one of my bottles you’re out on your ass. This isn’t the fucking circus.
Lloyd is perfect for dealing with those afternoon regulars. The guys that slop themselves in around noon and don’t leave until they feel they’ve cheated death. Imagine Lloyd whispering evil little encouragements to these assholes all day. “Well, Bart, I think your wife WILL fit in the blender. She always has. Why don’t you go home and try it?”
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Lots of advantages here, the first being his mustache. Also, he’s a vampire, which means he’s always available for the night shift, can dispose of any “accidents” that happen to slow down our security team during the night. Our establishment is not a safe place. Think the Mos Eisley Cantina mixed with a prison yard.
This isn’t regular waitress Sarah Conner either. This is post knowledge of the post apocalyptic robot Armageddon Sarah Conner. And she has to dress like that. Imagine how annoyed she’ll be every night when she has to fetch your Appletini, knowing the end of the world is coming any second. Shit like this will keep me laughing all night.
I don’t think Bilal got a chance to shine during the house party. In our establishment he would have all the room he needs, safe from big booties bumping the table, and little objection to his playlist. Kid & Play can come too if they want. Nothing starts a night of dancing like that classic one-foot-in one-foot-out move. Hook your ankles together and turn it all about.
It’s not a strip club (yet) so we need some ladies to provide some PG entertainment. And I don’t know how this works but she has to dance in slow motion all night. This is all doable, right? Drawing up contracts during a black-out drunk can prove awkward when you read it out loud.
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We want a good atmosphere in the kitchen. Few things provide a better atmosphere than a quality dick-flashing game. I’ve done the research on this. Dane Cook is not allowed in our kitchen though because I once saw him at a bar wearing a “Dane Cook” hat. It was like a giant obnoxious name tag on his head.