“What’s it to ya?” asked the man at the bar, to which I politely replied,
“I’ll kick your fucking head in.”
The man at the bar got up off his stool and staggered towards me. I pulled my Glock out of my waistband and waved it around for a sec. He staggered back, plopped himself down again.
“That’s what’s it to me,” I growled.
At least that’s how my “shower fight” went. You know, when you play it over again in your head the next day.