Finally thought of a good one, so I'm back from a self-imposed sabbatical of imaginative stagnancy!Somewhere in Texas...A van pulls up in front of a seedy dive off a dirt road somewhere in Texas. It's black, with a red stripe all the way around... and a spoiler in the back. This is no ordinary van... but, of course, its driver is no ordinary man.
A large black man gets out of the vehicle. From the looks of him, he's worth his weight in gold... literally. Gold hangs off of practically every inch of him. What isn't covered by gold is his denim vest (under which he wears no shirt) and tattered blue jeans. An intimidating mohawk (which, let's face it, would look ridiculous on anyone else) completes his stoic demeanor. For no perceived reason at all, he flexes as he shuts the van door and saunters into the bar.
The place is practically empty. A popular Spanish radio station plays in the background as the bartender, who looks a bit like Cheech Marin, cleans out a beer stein. Because bartenders are always doing that kind of thing.
The imposing, bejewelled figure sits down at the bar and signals the bartender.
"What'll ya have?" he asked.
"Gimme a milk," the man answered in a brusque tone.
"Uh... don't think we got milk," the bartender replied, still cleaning his stein. "I got some piss-warm Chango..."
"Don't want no Chango, fool!" the man said, his anger flaring. "Want milk! Lots of it! All the vitamins and minerals essential to a growing boy!"
"Easy, muchacho, easy..." Cheech says. "Now, I don't have milk, but..."
"I pity the fool who don't got milk!" the man raged, grabbing the short bartender by the collar.
"Put him down," comes a clear, yet gravelly voice from the door. Both men turn to see the imposing figure of a man in cowboy boots, tight blue jeans (tighter than they oughtta be, certainly), a denim jacket, and a cowboy hat. On his lapel is the star of a Texas Ranger. The one thing he didn't have, however (in the interests of making this a fair fight), was a gun. His beady eyes narrow as the wind from outside rustles through his red beard.
"What you say to me, fool?" the large black man asked, casting the bartender aside.
"I said, 'put him down,'" the Ranger said, still keeping his cool. "That is... unless you'd like to take it up with me."
"I pity the fool that mess with me!" the larger man asserts. "Uh... which is to say... I pity you, fool!"
"Don't say I didn't warn you," the Irish Buddhist said as the two men began to circle each other.
Cheech ducks behind the bar... 'cuz he saw
Desperado and didn't wanna buy it that badly this time around...
Mr. T versus Chuck Norris
