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Bodyguard or Buddyguard?

I can’t be a bodyguard. It will only be exhilarating to role-play one. But truly being one is as bad as the idea of farting in the midst of your in-laws during your wedding introduction, especially when they know it’s you.

If I’m employed to protect Justin Beiber, that’d make me feel like a groupie, really, especially if I get carried away and scream out his name while forgetting that I’m supposed to be “body-guarding” him. Worst off if I have to protect Nicki Minaj. I’d take the job for free because I’d be the only bodyguard backstage or front stage who’d scream, “Go, Nikki!”, and respond to her body curves as a true fan would. I’ll perceive imminent danger every sec just so I’d get to grab her by the rare and shout, “Tits down and ass up, Minaj”.

But more interesting are the thoughts going on inside the heads of these bodyguards if we could see them or read them. It’s Funny though how most never get to smile even when you try to be friendly. Are they pissed? Offended? Disgusted? Underpaid? Hungry? Unintelligently severe or just plain mean? How about they are sad at the fact that they have to protect this Idol whom the world perceives as great and unique, but who in actuality is a wrap of mega auto-tunes, emptiness, disgust and petty showmanship? Plus they got to put their lives on the line for such “Slomp” (My word for a naturally slow and dumb person)?

I can’t imagine taking in a bullet or a knife blade for someone who ain’t worth the blood spill. Oh well, at least his money might be worth it…or not. But he ain’t what his fans think him to be-good, creative, unique, genius. Never those! He isn’t even this (Fingernail) close to being any of those. It’s just the maximal media hype and overplay. Such disgust could make the bodyguard kill the body he’s guarding while yelling out; “Get away! You’re supposed to be the one guarding me because I got skills and talents. How do you think you’ve been alive all this while? You could have been shot at the last Never There Awards you weren’t nominated but went for. I protected you. And you really got nothing I should be protecting. You can’t sing. Pete Edochie sings better. You can’t even rap. Blue Ivy Carter raps better. Die mutherf*****! Die!”

These bodyguards got temper but they are sure very patient until you tick’em off. And that’s when you realize that the Pope can swear and curse too.

“Body-guarding” ain’t no civil job. They go all out military on the intruders and sometimes even the fans.

If I become a bodyguard, who would protect me? Or does it mean I don’t need cover since I got a gun? Well, if I’m protecting myself, who’d be protecting the Idol?

By the way, if I’m ever employed to protect GEJ, imma kill him myself! Go Nicki, go Nicki, go!!!!

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