"Oi! Giz another one 'en!"
Barry slams his empty glass on the table, signalling for the bartender to pour him another refill. The kid looks just as dubious as me, but Barry is in enough of a state that denying him would be more dangerous than letting him drink some more. He's been taking shots of Jack nonstop since we arrived, and we've been here for about an hour. I've lost count of how many he's had by now, but let's just say, he's pretty fuckin' wasted. The kid at the bar gives me a look as he asks him for another refill, but I just shrug; Barry's going to drink 'till he drops, and there's nothing either of us can do about it.
Even so, I decide to at least give it a try. I lean over and put a hand on his arm, putting on my nicest tone:
"Barry, you're drinking too much, bro...better stop now, 'kay?"
I instantly realize he is not even listening. He just looks at me with glazed-over eyes, and gives me the most shit-eating grin anyone has given anyone else, ever. The fuckin' thing literally goes from ear to ear. He looks like the fucking Cheshire Cat or something. Then, after looking at me like this for a moment, he lets out the loudest fucking belch in the history of the universe. I look around to see if anyone's heard it, but apparently no-one did - except for the bartender kid, who's laughing his ass off. I am afraid Barry's going to yell at him, but instead, he cackles, holding his hand out to give the kid a high-five. Then, he asks for another refill, and I sigh.
I turn back around and sip at my own beer - my second - as I glance over the bar. I see two guys coming in my direction, and shift aside slightly, in case they want to come up to the bar. Instead, they stop near me, the blond one hanging back as his friend comes forward:
"Hey, babe. Lemme buy ya a dink, huh?"
Oh great. Just what I needed. A couple of douchebags on the prowl. I'm about to give these assholes a piece of my mind when I hear a mumble coming from my right hand side:
"Bugger off ya wankahs!"
Oh shit.
"Barry, it's OK, no need for..."
Too late. Barry's slipped off his stool and is standing unsteadily in front of the two guys. He's trying his best to look menacing, but his drunkenness, combined with the fact that he's smaller than either of them, kind of spoils that effect. The two idiots predictably just laugh at him:
"Is this your grandpa, babe? I think it's time to take him back to the senior center, dude's fuckin' wasted..."
Fighting bravely just to stay on his feet, Barry replies, semi-understandably:
"Ah'm no' 'er gran'pa...ah'm 'er bloke...now bugger off, th' two a'yez!"
He takes a swing, but does not come even close to hitting either of the guys; instead, he falls face-first on the floor, finally losing his balance. The guys take this as a victory, and an invitation to have their way with me, but I quickly show them otherwise. One minute, this tool's reaching forward to touch my tits or whatever; the next, he's in a sleeper hold, with my mouth inches from his ear, whispering menacingly:
"You should'a listened to my friend...he's drunk, but he still knows me. Now fuck off before I REALLY hurt you!"
Out of the corner of my eye, I see the bouncer approaching. Shit. I get ready to explain what's going on, but as he comes up and sees what's happening, he just laughs.
"You all right there?"
"Yeah. Just explainin' a coupl'a things to this guy."
He chuckles again.
"I can see that. Just take it easy. Don't wanna have to throw you out."
"Don't worry. We're all done here."
I let go of the guy, who gives me and the bouncer angry looks. My new friend, however, just chuckles again:
"You better not say anythin', bud. You're in no position to talk!"
It's my turn to laugh, as I hold out my hand for a low-five. As for the two assholes, they just slip away, their tails between their legs. I hope they've learned their lesson, although with this sort of guy, you never know.
I look over to where Barry's just getting up off the floor, and hold out a hand to help him up. Then, with a lot of bullshitting and convincing, I finally manage to get him away from the bar and start leading him to the outside. As I'm heading towards the door, I see the two douchebags sitting on a couch near the window, licking their wounds. I catch their eye, and decide to rub it in a little bit. Without breaking eye contact, I slide my hand around Barry's waist and pull him close, announcing loud enough for them to hear:
"Let's go, hon."
Then, smiling to myself, I push the door open, and leave the bar.