In The Heat Of The Battle

Slim and George sat down at the bar. Slim put a hand on George's shoulder and stated, "Like I said, George, sometimes a guy's gotta."
     "Yeah, it was time for me to wake up and smell the coffee" George responded meagerly. In the back of his mind he had hoped he had missed, he's been known to have a horrid shot.
      His father had jokingly told him "he couldn't hit the broad side of a barn." As the night progressed George had started drinking Slim under the table. Slim was starting to get more, and more concerned for George's well being. George's words had transformed from a slight slurr to complete jibberish in need of subtitles. He was as drunk as a sailor. Slim was now eagerly trying to get George out of his seat to bring him back to the ranch but everytime he tried to stand him up George shrugged him off with more power than a locomotive.   
     Slim struggled for about 10 minutes to lodge this rock from its place, when George turned around and screamed, "wha' the hell you want from me?!"
     "You're as drunk as a skunk George, you needa go home"
     " You don't know me, arghhhhhhhh" George replied with a struggle to make the words match what he was thinking in his head. His thoughts had started to shift and George was more confused than a wood pecker in a concrete forrest. This was the last straw for Slim, he grabbed George by the collar of his shirt and dragged him out of the pub they had been sitting in. Slim started yelling at him, but it was going in one ear and out the other, this angered slim even more. He reached back to clock George, and George countered slim as fast as a cheetah, and knocked his lights out. Slim was just trying to help George but ended up getting the short end of the stick.