Robocop in the Club
Robocop sauntered up to the renowned
Washington DC live music venue, The 69:30 Club. It was nine pm on a Saturday
night and he was sufficiently sloshed to enjoy a nice loud, throbbing, pulsating set
by Robocop’s favorite power rock group, Mr. Roper and his Frayed Knots.
Before Robocop could get his half human, half machine hand stamped, inside and holding a tall cold fermented adult beverage, he noticed an altercation brewing near the entrance. The bouncer was in the midst of fracas with an anxious gentleman attempting to get inside.
“Sorry pal, you aren’t getting inside without a ticket,” the burly tattooed door man growled.
“You don’t understand, I need to get in there,” protested the equally tattooed by considerably thinner man.
“Then you should have gotten a ticket. The only people who get in for free are club staff members and the band. And I know you don’t work here. So unless you’re in the band...”
The anxious man starred at the bouncer and than yelled in an exasperated tone, “I’M AFRAID NOT!”
“THEN YOU’RE NOT GETTING IN!” the bouncer snapped back.
Robocop, being a law enforcement officer trained in forensic detective work, problem solving and dispute resolution, recognized the issue and immediately identified the appropriate remedy with laser like precision and robotic efficiency.
“Come with me, anxious gentleman,” Robocop said as he picked up the man being barred entry by the collar and carried him to the alley behind The 69:30 Club.
“Thanks, Robocop! You’re a real friend for taking care of this,” shouted the bouncer.
“Than you know you are to call me my name, Murphy, as my friends do, my friend!” Robocop shouted back.
“Hey man, what are you doing?” Asked the Frayed Knot.
“Do not worry about it, the situation. I know what is going on, the misunderstanding, and will take care of it.”
“Oh great, thanks, Robocop!”
“By the way, what is it that is causing so many people to line up outside The 69:30 Club? I very much enjoy them, Mr Roper and the Frayed Knots, but they do not normally pack them in, so many people.”
“Oh that’s because of the opening band. They call themselves Two Dollar Red Bull and Vodkas and they always draw huge crowds, even though, to be personally honest, they suck pretty bad.”
“That is very clever on their part, the name $2RBVs. OK here we are, where I will solve the problem.” Robocop pulled out an enormous gun from his robotic thigh holster and blasted a truck size hole in the back of the club. Debris lie strewn across the alley and a billowing cloud of dust enveloped the horrified band member.
“Robocop, what the fuck did you just do!?!”
“Solved your problem.”
“You stupid dick, I’m in the band. I didn’t want you to wreck the fucking club to get me in. Now our gig is ruined! And you also killed a couple people!”
“If you are in it, the band, why did not you just say so.”
“I fucked did! I’m a Frayed Knot!”
Robocop paused.
“Well I guess I will be leaving now, the club.”
That’s when the now out of breath bouncer rounded the corner and saw the destruction.
“Robocop you just fucked up the whole club! You are no friend of mine. You are a fucking piece of shit! Get the fuck out of here and never return!” he admonished.
“Yes, yes, I am already making like it, a drum, and beating off.”
And so Roboocop rocketed away and his jet powered boots, never to return to The 69:30 Club, because he had just totally fucked it all up.
The End.
Before Robocop could get his half human, half machine hand stamped, inside and holding a tall cold fermented adult beverage, he noticed an altercation brewing near the entrance. The bouncer was in the midst of fracas with an anxious gentleman attempting to get inside.
“Sorry pal, you aren’t getting inside without a ticket,” the burly tattooed door man growled.
“You don’t understand, I need to get in there,” protested the equally tattooed by considerably thinner man.
“Then you should have gotten a ticket. The only people who get in for free are club staff members and the band. And I know you don’t work here. So unless you’re in the band...”
The anxious man starred at the bouncer and than yelled in an exasperated tone, “I’M AFRAID NOT!”
“THEN YOU’RE NOT GETTING IN!” the bouncer snapped back.
Robocop, being a law enforcement officer trained in forensic detective work, problem solving and dispute resolution, recognized the issue and immediately identified the appropriate remedy with laser like precision and robotic efficiency.
“Come with me, anxious gentleman,” Robocop said as he picked up the man being barred entry by the collar and carried him to the alley behind The 69:30 Club.
“Thanks, Robocop! You’re a real friend for taking care of this,” shouted the bouncer.
“Than you know you are to call me my name, Murphy, as my friends do, my friend!” Robocop shouted back.
“Hey man, what are you doing?” Asked the Frayed Knot.
“Do not worry about it, the situation. I know what is going on, the misunderstanding, and will take care of it.”
“Oh great, thanks, Robocop!”
“By the way, what is it that is causing so many people to line up outside The 69:30 Club? I very much enjoy them, Mr Roper and the Frayed Knots, but they do not normally pack them in, so many people.”
“Oh that’s because of the opening band. They call themselves Two Dollar Red Bull and Vodkas and they always draw huge crowds, even though, to be personally honest, they suck pretty bad.”
“That is very clever on their part, the name $2RBVs. OK here we are, where I will solve the problem.” Robocop pulled out an enormous gun from his robotic thigh holster and blasted a truck size hole in the back of the club. Debris lie strewn across the alley and a billowing cloud of dust enveloped the horrified band member.
“Robocop, what the fuck did you just do!?!”
“Solved your problem.”
“You stupid dick, I’m in the band. I didn’t want you to wreck the fucking club to get me in. Now our gig is ruined! And you also killed a couple people!”
“If you are in it, the band, why did not you just say so.”
“I fucked did! I’m a Frayed Knot!”
Robocop paused.
“Well I guess I will be leaving now, the club.”
That’s when the now out of breath bouncer rounded the corner and saw the destruction.
“Robocop you just fucked up the whole club! You are no friend of mine. You are a fucking piece of shit! Get the fuck out of here and never return!” he admonished.
“Yes, yes, I am already making like it, a drum, and beating off.”
And so Roboocop rocketed away and his jet powered boots, never to return to The 69:30 Club, because he had just totally fucked it all up.
The End.
posted by Ken Dynamo at
11:26 AM
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