How to Handle Bar Brawlers

I went out for a drink with the One-Armed-Bandit last night*. He comes by his nickname honestly. Anyway, while I'm standing there, enjoying my Gin and Tonic, minding my own business, checking out girls, this steroid-popping gorilla comes over and starts hassling me. Apparently, I had inadvertantly offended him somehow. Maybe I was talking loudly about his "slut," or selling the videotapes of me and his mom, or maybe I accidently shot him in the leg when I wasn't looking. I don't know, because I was drinking, and, well, didn't care to actually listen to anything he said.

Finally, he bellowed, "Did you hear what I said, motherfucker?" To which I said, "What? Right, um, you can take this up with my body guard, I'm not really interested." and gestured towards the One-Armed-Bandit. To this, the man said, "You're joking, right?" and I replied, "Don't let appearances fool you, he could take you with one hand tied behind his back."

The overgrown orangutang was so appalled that he just walked away shaking his head.

*This sentence is true, although the rest of the story took place over a year ago. I'm just now getting around to telling it, but, hey, I'm backlogged and shit. You just sit in your fucking tower.