After quite a bit more goat piss, Jeff and I were on much friendlier terms. We were just sitting there shooting the shit and arguing about music.
It was finally closing time. We helped each other to the door.
There was a big drunken dude standing in the doorway outside. When we bumped into him, he chose to take the arsehole approach. “Watch it, fags!”
Jeff stepped forward unsteadily. “‘Fag’ is a hateful word, but it should never be used as an insult. Some of the best people in the world are homosexual.”
The arsehole just pushed Jeff away and continued talking to his friends.
Jeff turned to me. “What do I do, Paul? I feel as though I should smite him, but I’ve never done a full on smiting from this close.”
It was totally ridiculous that ANYBODY would be asking me for fighting advice, let alone the Almighty God, but I decided I could at least teach him the basics. “Are you right or left-handed?”
Jeff looked down at his hands. “Right, NO! Left-handed!”
“Okay. Here’s what you do. Curl your fingers up into a ball. No, the thumb goes on the outside. That’s better. Now you approach him, and say, ‘Hey arsehole!’ When he turns toward you, you punch him as hard as you can in the soft bits: Eye, lip, stomach, balls. One of those. Keep punching until he falls.”
“Okay. I can do this.”
Jeff walked over, and said a mighty-sounding “Hey arsehole!”
The arsehole turned to face him, just as Jeff swung his fist.