I must sigh, because you’re all wimps and I could easily just wipe you all out (save the ladies, of course) with a wave of my hand.
But, okay, I can fight if you want to.
How do you feel about being kicked in the head, Coldy?
*throws a mug of beer at Globe-trotter
Whew! I can smell the testosterone burning in here!
:::slaps a $5 on the bar:::
My money’s on the Clogmeister. Anyone with me?
A MUG??? Guinness comes in PINTS, heretic!!
(Damn, this is getting more fun by the minute hehe :D)
Gin and tonic? That’s for sissies! Gimme a real drink, Coldie Clogs.
YUCK!!! I don’t drink that slimy excuse for a beer!!! Gimme a Wiezen!!!
- Wanders over to the ice machine and tosses ice cubes at everyone*
Kicked in the head? Boy, I received kicks in the head when you were a mere SPERM in your fathers left testicle! Bring it on!
Oh, and Globie, here’s a JD for ya. On the house, for this once.
Heheh, well your all covered in Guinness. Oh the foam!
I would but none of the men want to hit a chick so I’ll just sit at the bar and hand out my empties for someone else to throw around! Here, Coldie, here’s a bottle for ya! What? You are so strong and fabulous you can kiss me in-between all that fighting? You lusty animal! Smooch!
Okay.
kick kick kick
And, speaking of testicles:
kick in the balls for good measure.
Don’t waste beer, you heretic! (Unless it’s Miller Light or some other crap like that.) 
Thanks for the JD, Coldie baby. smooch
Wiezen??? Quickly, tell me you meant Weizen before I bash your skull in!
Sheesh, you fartknockers sure don’t know your beer.
Smeghead walks in, grabs Coldfire, the nearest combatant, and throws him humorously over the bar into the shelves filled with bottles, also breaking the mirror in the process.
That felt damn good today, boys!
that’s it, enough fight piano music…
(stands on piano, jumps towards brawl, misses, lands on drum set)
d-oh!
Of course Stinky pants!!! I was just checking to see if you knew!! Sheesh! Now, Where is my Beer???
- Drums fingers impatiently on table*
Cue=>Blazing Saddles
Bart: Go for your gun.
Hedley Lamarr: Wait, wait, wait. I’m unarmed.
Bart: Alright, we’ll settle this it men, with our fists.
Hedley Lamarr: Sorry, I just remembered . . . I am armed.
Rev. Johnson:
Now, I don’t have to tell you good folks, what has been happening here in our beloved little town: sheriff murdered, crops burned, stores looted, people stampeded, and cattle raped.
Jim: The Waco Kid:
What did you expect? “Welcome sonny,” “Make yourself at home,” “Marry my daughter.” You’ve got to remember, that these are just simple farmers, these are people of the land, the common clay of the new west. You know . . . morons.
::Acquires 1 dark force point to shoot Jedi lightning bolts at Montfort::
I * told * you I could out-geek you, but would you listen…noooo!!
::crawls under table toawrds Byzantine’s shoelaces::
*** peeks in and notices all the brawling men, and quietly takes a seat next to Globe-trotter ***
What’s it take to get a little service in this place…and is this blouse too low cut??
walks in
grabs half empty bottle of JD
Downs the rest
YO! Now who started this??? glares at assorted male Dopers, chest heaving
whips an ice cube into Angkins low cut bodice