Recon sat at the bar, drinking 200 proof alcohol because anything lower was for pussies. And Recon was a man. As he was watching the TV behind the counter, he heard a ruckus behind him. Four tattooed greaseheaded motorcyclists started harassing a young woman. "DON'T TOUCH ME YOU CREEPS!" She shouted, as she swung a purse at the leader. He caught the purse and tore it away from her, much to the amusement of his cronies. "What do we have here?" He said as he held the purse up high. "GIVE THAT BACK!" demanded the woman. "Oh I'll give it back, but only if you do me a favor." He said while winking at his buddies. "SOMEBODY HELP ME!" The woman pleaded, but everybody else backed away, too afraid to stand up for her.

Recon sighed, and put down his shot and put on his sunglasses. He had put up with enough of this kind of shit on bungie.net, it was time to take care of the troll in real life. He cooly and confidently turned around on his barstool, slid off and calmly walked over towards the greaseheads. He took a deep breath and said "Gentlemen, I'm going to tell you once. Please give that young lady her purse back and get the hell out of here." His voice was deep and reassuring. But the greasehead leader took one look at Recon and burst into laughter.

"Oh look! Santa Clause came early this year!" he jeered. "What are you going to do Mr. Clause if I refuse? Fill my stocking with coal? BAHAHAHAHAHAHA- GLUCK!!!" The greasehead's laughter was brutally interrupted when Recon's manly fist collided into his face, knocking out all of his teeth and caving his skull in. The greasehead's eyeballs popped out of their sockets and flew across the bar. One of them landed in somebody's martini. The other landed in one of the other greaseheads' open mouth, causing him to choke to death. The other two greaseheads brandished their switchblades and came for Recon. But they broke upon impact. Recon grabbed both of the bullies and threw them over his lap. He pulled out a gigantic banhammer and repeatedly bludgeoned their asses. They screamed for him to stop, but he didn't stop until their asses broke. Then he sent them home extremely butthurt.

The woman picked her purse off of the floor and said "Thank you so much for saving me again." Recon pulled out a cigarette, gave it a light, took a puff and said "No problem CamCamm."

Gold.

Flood literary GOLD.

Huh... Do one for Daz

Any story involving Daz must at least involve his ongoing crusade against circumcision.

I'd rather not write a story that consists solely of whining.

At least include Lonepaul getting protected by him!

I love reading these stories.