.. upon assuming the beginning of a joke, he slams the nearest patron's face into the bar. Snarling, he grabs a beer bottle from the unconscious man's vicinity.. A drunken louse approaches him to attack and gets several lacerations from the subsequent bottle being smashed against his temple.
"No more joking", says the prederapriest as he approaches the bar tender and the frightened man pulls a shotgun from somewhere below the counter.
His attempt to arm himself is in vain as the back of his hand is sliced with the jagged beer bottle and the gun is jerked from him.
The prederapriest snarls a warning and empties the chamber of shells, then sits down.
"W-what the FUCK, man?" stammers the tender.
"Give me a shot of whiskey."
"The fuck.. You just come in here and bust this place up.. And you think I'll serve you?"
The deviant glances behind him, through the pub's glass doors, noting a draft horse looking into the bar.
The horse pushes open the door, walking in, appreciating the break from cliche.
"Yeah.. And one for my friend. He's had.. A long day."
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