It was more often than not the smiley ones I watched out for. While I checked their IDs, their gazes would frequently flicker over to their friends for support. The more jittery among them would chatter away with quotes plucked directly from the latest Fortune magazine, or how buying their own place was the best thing to happen to them.


If only they knew they weren’t the only one saying those things. Inevitably, after about 15 seconds of my careful, silent scrutiny of their spotless plastic cards, the first tracks of sweat would begin to appear on their foreheads, their conversations would die down and the fidgeting multiply. The desperate ones would say, with frequent glances over my shoulder, a doorway through which pulsing lights and throbbing music emerged.


Could we hurry up? Our friends are waiting for us inside. I’m sorry, but you’re underage. This idea is invalid. I said sometimes I wished I could just tell them the truth, but I could identify crap all about them from the card. The printed numbers meant little against the large glimmering digits floating above their heads. It had taken me several childhood years and the help of a mirror to figure them out.


But they made me damn good at my job. This can’t be right. The young man said, draws tightening even as a visible nervous shudder, coarse through his body. I’m guessing 17. I almost laughed at a shocked expression, jerking my thumb toward his older male companion. I said, Your brother, I’ll just have to take you elsewhere. Come on, let’s go.


The other man said, pulling him out and shooting me one last dirty look. Such was the life of a street level NYC bouncer. As I was writing down the IDs details on a register, I heard the clicking of heels approach. Next moment, a slim small hand slid an ID card onto my podium. I looked up and did a double take, literally jumping back a step.


She was pretty more girl next door than a supermodel with loose auburn hair hanging to her shoulders, framing a lean face about five feet tall. She wore a tight fitting black dress that terminated at mid-thigh. Though her figure wasn’t anything more spectacular than I’d been seeing for the past hour or so. So your typical college girl look alike.


But for the number above her head. 3009. What the hell? There might be an issue with your age. I blurted before I could stop myself. Excuse me? She said in a faintly European accent other than her mouth. The rest of her had moved it all. Even the fingers clutching the purse in front of her were like cold marble.


I could feel goosebumps popping up on my arms as I reached for her I.D.. Sorry. Just give me a moment to check. I said, darting furtive looks at the age number above her head, as though I expected it to change at any time. I’ve never been wrong before. Perhaps this was the first time. Her name was Helena Ritchie.


Born here in the U.S. 22 years ago. I ran the scanner over it. Clean shit her. I’ll need just a moment to register you into our system. I said. Take your time. I’ve got plenty. She said her eyes remained cold above her smile. Once the process was complete. I handed the card back to her. Have a pleasant evening.


She took the card and stalked off into the club. I felt tempted to go after her. So many questions were in my head, but that would mean revealing my gift. And one didn’t go around spouting such nonsense so easily. So my dad had warned me. So I threw my attention back to the impatient and growing line of patrons waiting for me.


The hours flew by. I kept an eye out for Helena among the clubbers, trickling out. Once I thought I saw her in the midst of a small group of men who went and lounged by a Levante park not far away. They spoke for a while before returning to the club. At about four in the morning, when activity was visibly slowing down, she left the club, flashing me a grin on the way.


That, more than anything, helped make up my mind. Helena. I called jogging from my post to catch up to her. I’ve got something I want to ask you. She paused in her step, but maintained her distance out of my arm’s reach. Yes. I tore my eyes away from her numbers and met her searching gaze. How old are you?


She snorted. Really? We’re still not over this. I can see people’s ages above their heads. I said in a rush. I’ve always been able to since I was a child. And I see that you’re quiet. She snapped, looking around almost fearfully. You must be dreaming or imagining things. I’m only 22, recently graduated. That’s B.S., I said. I’ve never been wrong.


I know what I see, and I’m most definitely not hirer anything. She scoffed. Stay away from me, mister. I’ve got mace here in my purse. With that, she hurried away. I told you my secret. Don’t I deserve a little truth from you? I said. She stopped in their tracks and turned her head halfway. I never agreed to a trade.


I won’t say anything to anyone. I promise. I said. I just. Seeing you is almost the same as Nasser, revealing that alien life exists on the moon or something. Can’t you imagine what it’s like for me? For a long time, she remained quiet. I could almost see the gears turning in her head. At last. She said softly. Fine.


Come, I’ll show you the latest I followed. She didn’t speak to me as we traversed the silent, shadowy streets. But I held my tongue as well. If I asked one question too many, she could turn me away. About 15 minutes later, we arrived at an unmarked red door in a back alley sandwiched between two dumpsters. I frowned at our surroundings, suddenly realizing that if she wanted to rob me or worse, I wouldn’t be discovered until the next week.


Probably. She knocked on the door, but instead of a rapping sound, musical notes floated from somewhere inside. Then it swung open to reveal a heavily bearded giant of a man. His fierce gaze took one look at Helena before his expression melted with warmth, and he wrapped his arms around her. Who is this? He said. With luck, someone smart enough to keep his life, she said.


I tried not to gulp as the man held out a brick like hand for me to shake. I’m Olander, he said. I’m Jeff. Please. To Holy crap. You’re over a thousand years old. I said. He blinked in astonishment. How did you know? Helena. What have you brought us? He might be useful. Shall we go in? She said all under.


Let us into a long stone tunnel with an arch ceiling. It looked extremely cramped for the big man, but he hunched his shoulders in a manner that indicated familiarity. The two of them spoke in a language I didn’t know. Somewhere in the distance there was a constant gush of water. Perhaps we were near one of the city’s waterways.


Moments later, we reached another door. This one made entirely of solid carved wood. I had only begun to marvel at its surface when Olander pushed it in and revealed the chamber within. I gaped open mouthed at the 12 Roman columns supporting a ceiling of painted frescoes spaced around the cavernous place lit by huge chandeliers and colorful wall mounted lanterns.


In the center of the room was a fountain almost ten feet tall, crystalline water spilling from the top into three descending circular pools and sparkling with light. People of various races and attire filled the room, mingling in small groups, eating from the buffet tables, drinking, admiring paintings, hanging on a section of wall, or listening to an orchestral quartet on a small stage.


And above all, I was stunned at the numbers everywhere. 2082. 1500. 1006. Three Freaking 3744. How? I stammered. What is this? Helena didn’t answer except to point at the fountain. And then at dawn one me before I could inquire further. She pulled me back out of the chamber into the tunnel. Would you be interested in a new job here at our club?


She said. I heard. What job? Doorman. She sighed. You see, we can’t have too many of us running around the world defeats the purpose of actively staying out of the history books, if you know what I mean. Anyone below a thousand must not be allowed in. Sometimes it’s really hard to tell. But you already know that with your current job.


I’ll have to think about it. I said. My head felt like it was about to split apart. Those people, some of their clothes looked like they pre-dated writing. Are there younger people trying to get in to more than you know? She said in a grave tone. Hollander takes care of them, usually, but it’s really insulting if you turn away the wrong patrons and grudges can last for a long time with us.


Well, you already know we have a great health care package networking opportunities, insurance and investment returns. I won’t pressure you to give me an answer tonight, she said. Going to stand in the doorway. Take your time. I’m in no hurry.




Scenes: Bar


Bouncer, Girl A, Girl B


Shot: A car’s tires driving into a small parking lot in an urban city, the neon lights reflecting off of the small pools of water, the ripples disturbing the name of the bar, a green sign in stark contrast with the red lights in the distance.


Shot: Truck right, slower than pace of people walking by, low angle, stopping and panning to a very wide-view of the bar front.

Heels and dress shoes walking by, the sound of giggling and boisterous laughter and voices in the distance. Vapor clouds describe that it’s a bit cooler out. Two girls are standing in front of the bar talking as a guy comes out of the door, standing between the girls and the entrance. Girl A is leaning in while Girl B is to the left of her and standoffish.

“I’m telling you, this is the best unknown bar in town, it’s great,” says Girl A to Girl B, audio coming in from previous shot.


Shot: long-shot from the left showing all three characters.

“You’re too young to enter,” says the bouncer, crossing his arms, his head cocked to one side.

“No no, I’m old enough. Here,” says Girl A.


Shot: A center shot of her purse, from behind and to the right of her at waist level.

She shuffles with her purse and pulls a card out, –


Shot: Over Girl A’s shoulder to the right, focusing on the exchange itself

– handing it over to him, almost pushing it towards him.


Shot: To the right of both.

He takes the card, his face visibly annoyed as he looks at it, turning it over to look at the back.



“It’s a good fake,” he says handing it back.


“What?” she says, confused, “It’s … it’s not …”


Girl B tugs at Girl A’s jacket, and she turns to leave.


“Wait,” she says, and turns back to him, asking, “How did you know?”



Shot: POV from behind his left shoulder towards the girls, mid-shot of both in frame

He looks at them, unsure how to respond as he sees the visible, bright green numbers above their heads showing their ages, 18, and 19\. He knew, however, that only he could see them.


Shot: mid-shot, his face, slowly zoom out

As he looks above their heads, and then at them, he opens his mouth as if to say something and then he closes it and shrugs, gesturing vaguely, “I can just tell.”


She squints her eyes accusingly, “I paid good money for this, more than your lousy job pays,” she says.


“Why are you _here,_ then?“ he asks, harrumphing.


Shot: Mid-shot of her face as he looks at him, and then as she cranes her neck to look behind him, into the bar, as her face turns into disgust while Girl B is tugging at her arm again.


“Whatever,” she says and leaves with her friend.


He rubs his forehead as if keeping a headache at bay, then checks his watch nervously. Then looks to both sides for anyone.


Shot: Camera to his left, over his shoulder

He turns to look into the bar, catching the attention of two guys sitting in a corner, and motions for a smoke break. One of the guys nods and waves him off, laughing with the other dude.


Shot: To the left, mid-to-low angle, in front, dolly along with his pace, stop at alley keeping mid-shot.

The bouncer pulls out a cigarette from his pack in his pocket, and lights it up, stepping to the right just inside the alley, taking a deep drag of the cigarette.


We hear a the buzz of a phone vibrating, and he opens up his screen to see text messages from “Kris Bestie”, which reads “Ugh, this shift is soooo fucking boring.”


And then, moments later, another message pops up as he opens the message, “How’s your new job going?”


He chuckles as he leans against the wall in the alley and texts back.



Home Scene (flashback)


Bouncer, Kris(Female Friend)


Shot: Wide, low angle shot of his couch at home

Sitting on a couch with food in hand and a girl next to him, both laughing at the tv as a laugh track from the tv’s audio cues in.


Shot: Silence except for a muffled tv. His back in center shot with yellow toned lighting. He’s standing at the sink, washing dishes. Slow zoom in.

“So how’s it feel now? Without him here?” says the friend as she situaties something at the counter.

His shoulders tense up at the question, and Kris doesn’t seem to notice as she passes behind him to put something away in the fridge.


Shot: Close-up, in front of him.

He pulls his head up and looks off into the distance, his shoulders subtly relaxing as he lets out a long breath.

“Honestly,” he says as he returns to the dishes, “It’s been hard.”


Shot: from the left, mid-shot.

He finishes rising a dish and puts it in the rack, turning off the water. He pauses just momentarily and turns his head towards her, but doesn’t look at her directly, his face forlorn, sad, thinking, as if holding something back. His eyes look at her momentarily.


Shot: wide-shot, of both of them, she’s on the counter, eating grapes.

“It’s like I live with a ghost sometimes. I keep expecting to see him there,” he says, –


Shot: mid-shot, his side profile.

– waving towards the couch in the living room, “And, well, obviously, he’s not, ya know. But I forget, and it’s … like a constant reminder?”


Shot: in front of his figure but beside him by the counter,

He reaches in the water and pulls out the drain, grabbing a towel and drying his hands off and wiping down the sink.


Shot: close-up, his face looking down.

The sound of water gurgling down the drain, as he whispers to himself, the sound of the bar music coming back, “I don’t wanna come home sometimes.”


Shot: POV as he looks down at his hands, his fingers running over where a wedding band should be, the area slightly lighter than the rest of his finger.



Scene: Alley


POV: he traces the lightened area on his ring finger which has toned almost normally with his natural skin tone, with a cigarette in his hand and the slow flashing of an open sign washing his hand with red.


He hears light footsteps, and looks up to see a woman, walking towards him. He looks down for a moment, but he’s confused as he registers what he saw. As she comes closer and turns into the alley, he looks at her again, and sees that the numbers above her say 2,048\.


“Uh, excuse me?” he asks as he reaches out to her and the lady stops and turns her head towards him, expectantly.


He doesn’t answer right away as he looks above her to confirm the number he sees and brings his arm down, realizing how awkward this situation just became.


“Yes?” she asks, waiting, turning towards him.


“Uh,” he stutters, knowing he needed to say something but not sure what, exactly, “How … old are you?”


She pauses for a moment, completely caught off guard from the question.


“What a strange question to ask of a stranger,” she says, her accent untraceable, looking him up and down, as if his figure would provide an answer to the questions spilling in her mind.


“Sorry, I was,” he says slowly, “curious?”


Silence. They both just stand there, the moment seeming suspended in time.


“I mean, I was just – I figured … ,” he doesn’t know how to proceed, but decides to lean into this chance, this anomaly, “You’re … much older than you seem. Aren’t you?”


She looks at him, thinking, hearing the buzz of her own phone as she pulls it out.


“I have to go,” she says, as she turns away. She looks back at him, pausing, “What’s your name?”




She harrumphs with a smile, “Alright John. We’ll meet again.”


She looks off to his right before turning around and heading down the alley.


He turns around to see one of the other bouncers behind him, looking at the lady as he tells him, “Hey, you’re break’s up.”


“Right,” he said as he pushed out the tip of the burning cigarette and stuck the filter in his jacket pocket and followed him back to the bar front, which now had a few people waiting.



Scene: Home


“And then she just says ‘We’ll meet again’, like, what the hell?” he says, confused.


“Okay, but how did she seem? Did she seem like -”, she said, waving her hand as if trying to catch the words that wouldn’t come to her mouth.


“A lady who was over 2,000 years old?!,” he asks in response, mildly incredulous, “No. Of course not. I mean, she had this wierd accent. She was definitely rich, I could tell that much. I don’t know what she was doing in that part of town, to be honest.”


She paces the kitchen as he leans against the sink, thinking.


“I know it’s obvious, but has this … ever happened before? Seeing that big of a number?”


“No, of course not,” he says, thinking. “I mean … wait, actually,” he says, thinking harder. “There was this time, it was when I was really young though. I was at a playground -”



Scene: Flashback (audio from previous scene dubbing over this scene)


Child-version of Bouncer, Mom, Older Dude


_My mom was there, back when she was alive. _


Shot: Child’s face, as he stops running around, and looks at his mom from across the playground, other kids running and screaming and having fun. Mom is sitting on a park bench with her bag besider her, under her arm as she is angrily speaking to no one in front her her, but the Older Dude standing beside her is obviously responding to her.


Shot: High-vantage point of close-up shot of child’s face looking up.


“Wow, mister, you’re really old,” says the kid.


“Shhhh,” says Mom as she reaches for the child.


But the man looks at her and extends his hand, stopping her as he looks at the child.


“How old do you _think_ I am?“ he asks, leaning over to get a better view.


The child looks at the numbers above him, and then at his mom, who is shaking her head as subtly as she can.


“600!” says the child, gleefully, “and fourty – no, fourteen!”


The man smiles, and looks to Mom.


Mom says with a bit of fear in her voice, “Honey, why don’t you go play with your friends so mommy can talk?”



Scene: Home


“Can you remember what what this dude looks like?”


“I’m not sure. I think I’d know if I saw him again, though. Maybe. It’s been so long.”


“This feels big, right? Like, more than once? Who are they? What are they?” she asks aloud, thinking.


“Maybe it’s … just a glitch. Maybe it’s not real. Maybe none of this is real,” he says as he runs his hand through his hair nervously as he pushes himself away from the counter.



**_He’s reacting to the possibility of this memory being one that happened before his mother’s death, and the possibility of this dude being involved, and that he may have some sort of tie to all of this. Did his interaction lead to her demise? All subconscious reactions, though._**




“No, no. We’ve done the tests, we’ve already defined that it is, in fact, real. I don’t have a doubt,” she says as she leans against the counter.


“Yea, but, you’re not the one seeing it. You’re not the one living it! I am!” he says desperately.


She takes a couple of tentative steps towards him, “Look, I – I know I’m not. Right? Okay? I’ve been here the entire time. From the beginning. I believe in you, dude. Okay?”


He nods, allowing her words to calm him down.


He scratches his head, thinking, and pulls out a dining chair.


“I just don’t understand, then. What’s going on?”


Shot: Bouncer’s POV as he looks over at Kris, who is looking at the time on the stove.


“Shit,” she says.


“It’s getting late,” he says as she looks back at him.


“Fuck, it sucks that I’m leaving tomorrow, too!”


“I know,” he says, looking down, his heart pounding but not knowing why, “I almost forgot. How long, again?”


**_His nervousness is increasing because his only support system will be gone for two weeks._**


She takes a breath, “Two weeks. I know. Stupid conference shit. Couldn’t get out of it either.”


He says nothing, he doesn’t know what to say.


“Look, call me anytime, okay? We can talk it out, figure it out, I’ll do some research while I’m on the plane, okay? See what I can find out. Just … don’t do anything rash, okay?”


He looks up at her, visually calmed, but tense and nervous inside, “Okay.”



Scene: Bar II


It’s between afternoon and the evening as he pulls their door open, walking to the back to clock in, and the manager stops him.


“Hey, I got a complaint about you talkin’ to women on the street.


“Uh, yeah, that’s kind of my job.


Oh, a smartass. Well, no. I’m talking ‘bout harassing them when they have no business with you,” he says as one of the other Bouncers, the one who saw him witht he mystery woman, walks by. The manager nods up at him, and the bouncer smiles like he knows exactly what’s going on.


“Oh, uh, I guess,” he responds.


Well, you can’t be doing that. Folks ‘round here don’t take too kindly to those who are of the … ‘inquisitive’ nature. Keep your questions to yourself or I’ll find someone else to take your place.”


“Yes, sir,” stepping away.


“And come in round the back door like the rest!”


“Yes, sir.”



He stands by the front of the door much later that evening, looking around down the streets, bored out of his mind. Why did they hire him if no one even comes around? He pulls out his phone, half expecting there to be a text from Kris but knowing she’s just got on another plane after a layover.


“Excuse me,” says a woman, whom he didn’t even see approach. He looks up at her. His eyes immediately look at the numbers, 2,048\.


Wait a minute.


He looks at her, and it’s the same woman.


“What were you looking at?” she asks, curiously, and he chuckles, shaking his phone and putting it away.


“Sorry, I know I’m not supposed to be on it.”


She nods, understanding.


“ID?” he asks, taking advantage of the situation, curious, again, about her numbers.


She hesitates only a microsecond before pulling it out, and handing it over. He looks at it, seeing that it says she’s 38\. He inspects the card, but it looks as good as that other girls’ from the other night. Impeccable.


He nods, “It’s a good fake,” he says, again, handing it back. A flash of worry in his mind as he realizes that it might not have been in his best interest to have said anything that time.


“Oh?” she says, chuckling, taking the card back, “Yes, I suppose it is.”


“So, if you know that that’s a fake, and you ‘assume’, that I am older, which, might I add, is a very rude thing to assume of a woman, much less speak on, how old do you suppose I am?”


His heart is beating, he can tell this is a moment he should take trepidatiously, but dear lord, his mouth doesn’t always follow his brain’s advice.


“Um, I’d say about 2,000,” he says, immediately shutting his mouth and cursing himself profusely in his mind, “and 48.”


He stands still, assuming he’s lost his job, assuming his life is over, assuming every bad thing to happen as this obviously rich woman’s face is completely unlegible, no emotions as she moves her head to the side. He dares not look in her eyes, waiting for the obviously ensuing yelling she is about to –


“How did you know?” she asks, looking at him.


“What?” he asks, confused.


“Is it whatever you see above my head? You look there a lot, when you see people. When you saw me, just now.”


“Uh,” something tells him that he should lie, but he can’t. What kind of lie can explain that?


“It’s okay, you don’t have to tell me. It’s good you didn’t. Means you can keep your mouth shut.”


He doesn’t say anything.


“I have a proposition for you. I’d like you to come with me. There’s a place I’d like to take you to.”


“I can’t, I have a job,” he says, confused about this entire situation.


“Of course, I will pay you handsomely. In fact,” she says as she pulls out a wad of cash out of her purse, “I’ll pay you ahead of time. And if all goes well, we could be looking at a long-term arrangement.”


He looks at the cash, and then down both sides of the street, seeing no one. He glances inside, at the bouncers who ratted him out earlier. Then back at the woman.


**_No support system, no one to come home to, his new job hates him, he feels alone and isolated._**


“Sure, I mean. Yes. I’ll go with you.”










Nick:   “There lined up all the way down the block”

Reggie:  “You’re an hour late”.

Nick:  “Yeah, I know.  Had another fight with the girlfriend”

Reggie:  “What about this time?”

Nick:  “You know, were not married, both of her younger sisters are married.  She wants a ring, do I look like I can afford a ring”.

Reggie:  “Oh, hell no”

Nick:  “You got a count?”

Reggie:  “Two hundred and ten inside”

Nick:  “We are at max capacity already.

Reggie:  “Yep”

Nick:  “Jack said no more than 210.   He thinks we are going to have another a visit from fire Marshall one of these nights.”

Reggie:  “The police were here last night”

Nick:  “Checking ID’s inside?”

Reggie:  “Yep”

Nick:  “They find anyone under age?”

Reggie:  “You kidding, with me on the door.  Wasted trip for them”.

Nick:  “You’ve got a gift Reggie, no idea how you do it.  Some of these fake ID’s are so real looking, I can’t tell the difference”.


Reggie voice over:   “Nick is right, all my life I’ve had the ability to see people’s ages above their heads.  Even as a child, the ages were there.”

Nick:  “Check her out”


Reggie:  “Hang on, can’t let anyone inside”

Justinia: “Why not?”

Reggie:  “We are at capacity right now.”

Justina:  “You have to let me in, I lost my necklace here last night and they said they found it, and I should talk to Steve the bartender, it will only take a second”.

Reggie: “Yeah, Nice try”

Justina:  “Really, I just need to talk to Steve the bartender”

Nick:  “Let her in Reggie, she’ll be right out”.

Reggie:  “I’ll let you in to get the necklace but you have to come right out.  But I do need to see your ID.  “Justina Szilagyi, how come I don’t remember you from last night.”

Justina:  “The other guy looked at my ID last night”

Reggie:  “Nick look at this ID, look legit to you?,  I’ve never seen an ID from Romania before”

Nick:  “Hell Reggie, it looks good to me, she is just going in to get her necklace.  Cut her some slack”

Reggie:  “Alright go in, but just get the necklace and come right out”


Reggie:  “Did she look 22 to you?  You ever seen a Romanian ID before?”

Nick:  “Yes she looked 22, and No I’ve never seen a Romanian ID before.  I don’t even know where hell Romania is Reggie”

Reggie:  “You got the door covered?”

Nick:  “Yeah, why”

Reggie:  “When she comes out I have to talk to her, I’m going to need a few minutes”.

Nick:  “Alright, it’s all good, but just remember you were the one who told me never get involved with the women who come to the bar you work at.”

Reggie:  “I ain’t getting involved, just need to talk to her”


Nick:  “You know it’s a strange deal”

Reggie:  “What’s that?”

Nick:  “Last weekend when I worked, all night long lots of couples turned into that alley.”

Reggie: “What’s strange about that?”

Nick:  “I never saw one of them come back out”



Justina:  “I got the necklace, I’m so relieved to have it back, it’s been in the family for long time”.



Reggie:  “Where you going now?”

Justina:  “Club M”

Reggie:  “That a new place?, never heard of it”

Justina: “It’s a short walk from here, come on I’ll show you”.

Reggie:  “Nick, cover for me, I’ll be back in a while”

Nick:  “Yeah, no worries Reggie, I owe you an hour man.”




Justinia:  “How long have you worked at the bar?”

Reggie:  “It’s been a while now.  Why did you pick this place too come to from Romania”

Justinia:  “I know the people who run club M.  They told me to come over for a while and help them out.”

Reggie:  “You like a cocktail waitress, or something like that?”

Justinia:  “Something like that,   Turn here, down the alley”.


Reggie:  “Man this alley is dark.”

Justinia:  “What are you afraid of the dark tough guy”.

Reggie:  “I ain’t afraid of the dark.   Just afraid of what’s in the dark, but I’m ready for anything.  This Club M like a rave?”

Justinia:  “Not exactly.  Her we are.”




Reggie:  “What the hell.”

Justina:  “You got that right”











(Friday night at one of the hottest night clubs in the city. There’s a line around the corner, people are excitedly waiting to go in to have the night of their lives. You can hear the boom from the bass leaking  through the walls shaking the windows .)


Bouncer:  And here I’am. Checking ids, I control your night. I’m the door man, the bouncer, security whatever you want to call it. You have to get past me too insure your night is a success, or not lol.


Now don’t get me wrong, there’s been plenty of bouncers over the years. but you now, not too toot my own horn but you’ve never seen a bouncer like me. There’s a reason why I have 100 percent success rate in my business. There’s a reason why  I   Am the best at what I do……


(The line is constantly moving…2 individuals are at the head of the line  and hands the bouncer there ids).


(The bouncer looks at the ids with little to no intent, looks up an immediately looks back down at the ids never making direct eye contact ).


Bouncer: where did y’all get these from, they so bad brah!!


Customer: what do you mean…… we got them from… ( getting cut off by the bouncer).


Bouncer: it don’t matter yall not getting in!!


Customer: what ( with a look of nervousness and confusion).


Bouncer: look (gesturing them to lean in closer never taking his eyes off the ids)


I have a very particular set of skills. ( as he slowly looks up to them both )


Skills I have acquired over a very long career. Skills that make me a nightmare for people like you. ( they look at each other confused and a little terrified. The bouncer laughs pointing at the two customers )


Bouncer: haha I’m bullshitting …….  I’ve always wanted to say that (  the customers laugh).  But y’all still not getting in!


Customers: what? these not fake, i just turned 23…


Bouncer: these ids are faker then a lebron foul .The dates not even right. Whoever yall got these from get yo money back and get out my line. (As the Customers leave the line disappearing into the crowd of party goers you can hear one say I told you this wasn’t going to work )


Bouncer: See what they don’t know about me is,yes I do have a special gift. I guess you can say I was born with it, no I didn’t get bitten by a spider, or come to the planet in a ship or anything I just can’t remember not having it. All my life it’s just been uselessly there. Dam I wish it was like super strength, or teleportation anything!! Now this “friend” that I like to call it  lets me see things not ,everything just……… you know what here I’ll show. you….


Bouncer: next……. how is your night going…..           (a women who’s   dressed for a good night in a tight-fitting black dress that hugs her curves,Her long, flowing hair shines in the flashing lights of the club sign,and her makeup is bold and glamorous, with smoky eyes and a deep red lip.


Girl: I’m good how are you doing? (she Hands the bouncer her I’d  he casually inspects it as he’s done a thousand times before. He looks up an sees it). A number thats seamlessly floating over the heads of everyone the bouncer looks at. In a sea of red and blue numbers representing the age of each person. This is his “friend”)


Bouncer: I must be seeing things, ain’t no way this is right. ( takes of his glasses to wipe his eyes)                    Girl: is there a problem?


Bouncer: naw you good…. (he hands her back the id an unhooks the red rope to let her in)

Bouncer: A yo, mike come cover for me a minute          (Mike walks over to the bouncer, with a hand shake and nod


Mike: I got you


Bouncer: ( walks away with the same look of confusion on his face as the two customers he turned away earlier that night. He goes to the bathroom, turns on the water to whip his face with ) man I got to stop drinking, maybe my shit broke, maybe it’s going out,maybe I’m seeing things, idk but ain’t no way she’s 345!! Here I’d said 22. It ain’t even a 2 in 345 (he looks at hisself in the mirror an see his own number). Naw, it ain’t me it’s her