“You better watch out, I got a short fuse!” Mitch yelled at the man, and squared off with him, ready to fight. “You think you can take me, but dynamite comes in small packages, mister, and I am gonna whoop your ass.” The man, a stranger at the bar, looked at Mitch, who was smaller than him and was very intoxicated, yet looked dangerous in a wild, unpredictable way.
Mitch was raising his fists, and he punched the air a couple of times when the man put his hands up, palms facing Mitch in a ‘hold on there’ position and said, “Hey, I don’t want to fight you, I wanted to buy you a drink.”
“Well, that’s good because I was fixin’ to knock you into next Tuesday, mister.”
“Let’s get that drink,” the man said, and he helped Mitch to the bar.
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Written in response to GirlieOnTheEdge’s six sentence blog hop
A Little Bit of Everything, With Love 