The booze was kicking in as I got kicked out. So my otherwise erudite argument on the subject of why I should be allowed to remain inside the venue was slurred. Clearly the only reason it failed, I'm sure.
As I finished my appeal with speculation about the parentage of the bouncer and if the two were in fact related, I felt a hand sliding into my pocket.
Such a low act, to try to pickpocket a man at that point! I suddenly thrust my hip towards the wall to break their hand.
Or my hand, as it turned out.
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