“LURRY! GO GRABSH ME ANOTHER BEERSH” Joe screamed. Larry retorted, “GO GET IT YOUR GODDAMN SELF YOU FREAKING SLO-“
“WHAT DID YOU CALL ME? WHAT – DID – YOU – CALL – ME?”
“I CALLED YOU A F@&#ING SLOB YOU F@&#ING @$$!”
“Ok.”
“…”
“Now go grab me my beer.”
Larry left the house, swearing to himself. “Goddamn, they need to clean up that mess.” Larry glanced at the bodies dangling 10 feet above the ground, sighed, then went into the bar.
“Grab me a beer, will ya?” Larry asked. The Bartender, eyebrows raised, asked him staunchly – “You’re awfully young to be drinking.”
“I’m running an errand for Christ’s sakes, I come here everyday, and you ask me that every time, WHAT THE VUTALIA IS YOUR PROBLEM?!”
“Okay little person, at peace!” The Bartender gave Larry the bottle, and before Larry could head out, a strange looking fellow entered the bar…