The Most Fucked-Up Place Mr. Nova Ever Worked At

I know some incredibly fucking stupid people. Back when I was a bartender at a private restaurant (owned by this oversexed middle-aged woman) I met a lot of incredibly fucking stupid people. Every single person employed there was relatively good-looking – which was highly fortunate since they had the collective brainpower of a fingernail clipper. Their sugar levels were all hyped up… but their brains couldn’t deal with the energy-overload. So what did they try to do with their unspent energy? They FUCKED like gangbang stars on Red Bull with A.D.D.

It was a fun job; I got to drink while I worked. I would wander in at 4:00 pm and the very first thing I would do was pull down that sweet bottle of Absolut Kurant vodka off of the shelf. I would whip out the cranberry juice and mix up a healthy drink. It was the best way to drink because I could mask my beverage as plain juice. Pouring a beer would have been a lot more obvious (although, on busy Friday nights, I would drink a healthy pint of Guinness to get warmed up). After I was primed, I would talk to all of the young girls that worked there. Their ages ranged between 16 to 20-years-old. I never wanted to fuck them – just to look at them. Their incessant banter proved too harsh for my Nova-ears, thus destroying the little sex appeal they had. But for some reason they loved your humble Novanator. They listened intently to what I had to say and always brought me tasty sandwiches to eat.

Let me tell you kids something about sex appeal: It is STRICTLY inherent. It cannot be learned. Rich girls who think only of themselves and work a part-time job as a waitress just to get Mommy and Daddy Warbucks off their backs do not have sex appeal.

Neither do middle-aged women with kids who run a restaurant to get away from their hard-working, perfectly decent husbands.

The shriveled hag of an owner made this restaurant a memorial to the time when she was a college girl, so she hired young high school and college chics. She still wished she was a 19-year-old slut and was desperately clinging to those teenage fantasies of hanging out with the popular kids. But her days as a teen vixen were gone forever – as were the days of her having non-droopy tits and a cellulite-free ass. She was now just a rotted-out bitch and a cock-hungry whore. Her sex-appeal was that of a squashed pile of maggots. And not cute maggots either! I’m talking ugly maggots.

This owner-bitch even had the nerve of coming onto the Novanator. While her husband was working on some construction upgrade for the restaurant, she sautéed her dimply ass over to a party I was throwing. Expecting my attention, she was flatly ignored all evening. She wanted Nova to bang the cobwebs out of her cunt and not tell a soul. Sorry, Granny: Ain’t gonna happen – not now or ever. She left pissed off and the next day she let everyone know that the Big Novowski was numero uno on her shit-list. My reaction? Big fuckin’ deal.

She didn’t understand that Nova is all about the challenge. He is also unconcerned about your secret agenda. In fact, having ulterior motives is the biggest turn-off. The Nova-jang doesn’t respond at all to your needs, you deceitful cheating bitches!

So hey, I wasn’t about to get involved with the vindictive cuntbag. She fired people left and right, all on a whim. I still needed a steady source of income, and if I had bagged that nasty piece of trash (and she wasn’t particularly bad-looking my Novanites, just old and evil) I would have been put into a situation where she made the rules. Since I didn’t fuck the dirty bitch I was in control. I could tell her husband about her deceitful ways at anytime, thus solidifying job security.

At least, that was how I justified the whole thing in my mind. Truth be told, I hated the cunt and simply didn’t want to fuck her.

As time went on, I would bring a notebook into work. I would jot down notes about all of the fucked-up happenings. She would go behind the bar and ask me to make up 10 shots known as Red Headed Sluts. Hey, she ran the place, so I made them. Then she would bring back all of the 16 to 20-year-old bitches she was pals with and they would take the shots while at work. Hey, what fun, huh? Dirty slizzes put the Novanator at great risk with the law – ‘cause if the shit went down, it’s the bartender who takes it up the poop-chute.

Over the course of the months I worked there, I noticed that I was drinking more and more. The only way I could get through the day was with my dear friend, Mr. Alcohol. And since the owner threw parties after hours (leaving my bar a mess for me the next day to clean up) I figured I was owed the drinks as payment for not squealing to a number of special interest groups.

I thought the status-quo was working fine. I had a ton of regulars and my business at the bar was steady. The same couldn’t be said for the restaurant itself. The waitstaff was young and inexperienced. Just because you hire good-looking people doesn’t mean that they will do a good-looking job. (Nova Factoid: I once knew a manager who said he only hired ugly people because they were like worker drones: They were happy to have a job and did their best to make sure that everything was done by the book. Also, Fritos are not free, nor are they toes. Talk amongst yourselves.) The servers would yap on their cell phones in front of their tables. They would eat like pigs in front of their tables. They would cuss in front of their tables.

From behind that bar I watched on in a drunker stupor as the sales plummeted. I knew she would have to sell the place soon or go bust (which reminds me – she did have nice tits, by the way). I lined-up another bartending gig across town and gave my notice. Being honorable, I offered to stay on an extra month so she could find a replacement.

She immediately started to treat Nova like shit. She fucked with my schedule and destroyed my cash intake. When a bitch does that, well, I have to get revenge! The Nova-way, baby!

(Sure, a SMART MAN might’ve quit on the spot, but I was still owed money. More importantly, not unlike Dr. Samuel Beckett on Quantum Leap, I needed to right some wrongs before I leaped the fuck outa there.)

I started something called “Free Tab Night.” If you were a regular, you drank for free all night long. Just hand me a $20 and you were good to go. I figured that made up for the lost hours she cost me. I also worked out a “Drinks for Food” program with the cooks. That would cook me up a nice meal and they would get a tasty beverage to help them deal with the overbearing owner-bitch and her 19-year-old manager.

I caught her and the manager fucking. One of the cooks and I noticed that the bitch and her Boy Toy were missing in action. We performed a stakeout and discovered them in the act. She dropped him off at the backdoor. My cook friend and I took several pictures to use as blackmail at some point. I kept the information to myself, because if she ever fucked with me I would reveal the truth to her oddly-devoted husband. I would also go to the ABC board and let them know about the fact that a 19-year-old dude was considered a licensed alcohol beverage manager. This idiot would go behind the bar, grab a beer, and go back to count money.

But my revenge plans got the best of me. It is hard to fight a war that really isn’t worth fighting, my Novanites. Two weeks into the final month she called me up and let me go. She also informed me that she would not be giving me my final paycheck. I kinda figured she didn’t have the money to pay me and that was why I was fired. I told her that her actions were illegal. You cannot withhold someone’s final pay. She then accused me of stealing. I told her to take a good look around, because her so-called friends were robbing her blind. I just did what I had to do to survive in the little microcosm she created.

She called me a fuckin’ asshole – and with the sort of smirk usually reserved for Presidents and dignitaries, she asked me if I knew that I’d NEVER amount to ANYTHING.

I shrugged my shoulders and asked her what the manager’s dick tasted like. The smirk immediately vanished from her face and tears started welling in her eyes. Mr. Nova then reached into her purse, pulled out a wad of cash, and walked out the door.

I left a hero. I never returned.

Dirty bitch gets what she deserves, my Novanites. She is still trying to keep that place afloat… but you reap what you sow. And she created the single most fucked-up place I ever worked at. I know she will drown in her own middle-aged insecurities. I know that one day her stand-up husband will realize the truth: That he married an inhuman she-beast monster that can never be happy. I feel sorry for her kids. And I feel sorry for her thong, for having to crawl inside her ever-growing ass. Gross, man.

So to you, my former boss that desperately wanted the Nova-jang: I hope you choke on your inevitable defeat. Cellulite Sally will one day be destroyed. And to you, my beloved Novanites, be glad I escaped with my sanity...

Just one more thing: If you think you know who I’m talking about… then you probably don’t. But I know who I’m talking about and that’s all that matters.