Him: “The nursing home’s down the street.”
Me: “I have as much right to be here as anyone.”
Him: “Get out! Our boss cares about the club’s reputation.”
Me: “Your boss won’t be happy when he finds out who you didn’t let in.”
Him: “The Pope? Move along, old man, or I’ll throw you out!”
Just then, a thug approached, taunting, “Hey, grandpa,” before trying to kick me. Little did they know, I’m a retired special forces operative. I sidestepped, grabbed his ankle, and unbalanced him, pinning him down swiftly.
Me: “Think twice before messing with your elders.”
The bouncer stepped aside, stunned. I walked into the club, feeling the music surge around me, proving that age hadn’t stolen my skills or spirit. At the bar, the bartender nodded.
Bartender: “Heard what happened. Nice moves, old man.”
Me: “Thanks. Just here to relax.”
With a smile, I sipped my drink. The night started with a challenge but ended on my terms. The bouncer and the thug learned a lesson: never underestimate an old man with a past.
