Blues Clues; the Most Scandalous Days of our Lives

Part 3

I'm in a rut.

Every day is the same now. I wake up. I eat breakfast. I go to work. I work at "Rick's Hot Mamas" as a bouncer. "Rick's Hot Mamas" is a 24/7 strip joint. My job is as a bouncer. But no ordinary bouncer who breaks up drunken fights. I'm a stripper-separator. I stand outside of the changing room, and when they get in a fight over a g-string, or implants, I bust in. I have to stand my post, watching everything threw a little peephole. I was hired because most guys would be looking in there and jerking off. But not me, I take my job seriously.

When I do have to bust in, I can't use any force against the strippers. I have to give them a nice compliment and then they start talking to me about manicures and such. For an example:

"YOU STUPID WHORE USED MY BABY OIL ON YOUR THEIGHS!" one would scream.

"MAYBE SO, BUT YOU USED MY MICRO BIKINI LAST WEEKEND! YOU BITCH!" they would yell until I would come in.

"Ladies, ladies. Wow! Your hair looks great, where do you go? It looks like you have absolutely NO split ends." They would start jumping on me telling me all the best places to get your hair cut, nails done, backs waxed, and even a place to set up a cell phone plan while getting tanned.

Sometimes I imagine what sex with a woman is like. But then I forget and laugh. They are so stupid. They actually think the bill for equal rights for women has passed the courts. Here is a real fact: it hasn't. That's just some bullshit explaining why I'm a homosexual.

I know I'm different. I know by the nicknames I get. Like "Peter-Puffer", "Bulge-Magnet" and "The Texan" (he sure don't look like a steer to me, so it narrows it down a bit!). I also know I'm different because I have much different word choice then most. Instead of saying

"WOW! THATS SO GAY!"

I say

"Oh my gosh, that is SO hetero!"

I am gay. But I have standards. Well, at least now I do. Maybe that's why I haven't had any new men over recently. I wonder if straight bachelors go through the same stress as I do. Going to nightclubs, trying to get laid, and then waking up the next morning trying to get paid. It seems different in my opinion. Then again, I'm not straight so I'll never know.

Back to today. After I had the run-in with Periwinkle, I went back to making my breakfast. I make my eggs poached. Maybe the damn salmonella will kill me before I do. I only make breakfast for myself, because most of my "friends" have moved out. Except for two, Tickety-Tock, my clock who you have already been introduced to, and Pail.

Pail had another friend, Shovel. But Shovel wanted to move to the big city, and Pail is the suburb kind of guy. So they split up, ending what would be known as the "Shovel and Pail" legacy. Pail is always outside, in the sandbox. We have let the sandbox go. No body has cleaned it, and there is grass growing in it. Pail just stands there, crying silently. He tried to kill himself 8 times by jumping off the roof. But he is made of sturdy plastic, so he always has survived. He has even given us the courtesy of letting us get lawn chairs, so we can watch his attempts. We've sent them to America's Funniest Videos, but they always send this reply:

"OMGFG LMAO WTF ROFL, dudes, Pails are inanimate objects. Get a life."

After I eat my breakfast, I put on my face and my best jeans and shirt. Then I get ready for the worst strippers alive.

Since it's a 24/7 strip joint, they need a lot more "girls" then other places. So some of them lack in quality. Currently, I have the 7 AM - 5 PM shift. This is when the all the freaks of the night make their money as strippers, or spend it on strippers.

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