So there I was, just wanting to relax, and I went to this club, right? But then this security guard blocks my path.
Him: It’s a club. The nursing home is down the street.
Sir, I have the same right to be here as everyone else.
Him: I don’t care; our boss worries about the club’s reputation. Get away of here!
Me: Your employer will be disappointed when he finds out who you didn’t let in.
Him: Who is the Pope? Do not hold up the line, old fart, or I will kick you out!
As we were fighting, this thug approached me and said, “Hey, grandpa, I have something for you,” before kicking me, completely unaware that I am a retired special forces agent.
As he swung his leg at me, I skillfully moved aside, grabbed his ankle and twisting it just enough to unbalance him. He staggered, clearly unprepared for any pushback. The bouncer looked stunned, but before he could respond, I pinned the thug to the ground with a quick motion.
Me: Maybe next time, think twice before messing with your elders.
The bouncer’s eyes widened, and he hurriedly moved aside. I shrugged off my jacket and entered the club, leaving the startled onlookers behind. The music pumped through the air, and I felt a surge of satisfaction. Age may have contributed wrinkles and gray hair, but it has not diminished my abilities or spirit.
Inside, the club was a whirlpool of lights and noise. I made my way to the bar and ordered a drink, enjoying the moment. The bartender, a young woman with bright pink hair, nodded in respect.
Bartender: I heard what happened outside. Nice moves, old man.
Me: Thanks. Just looking for a night to relax, you know?
As I sipped my beverage, I couldn’t help but smile. The night may have begun with a confrontation, but it would end on my terms. And as for the bouncer and thug, they learnt an important lesson: never underestimate an elderly man with a history.
