"Alright, Third-Eye," he grouses loudly, "I wont' do it-I ain't gonna improve this bar by dousin' a sorry canker sore with a little well-deserved baking soda. I will leave things peaceable like, even if it is a little loud on the loud-mouth side!"

"Is that right?!" Delaney bangs down his glass again and this time breaking it. His fist still clenches the broken shards of the glass that have cut him, though they bother him not even a little.

"Now, boys," glowers Third-Eye two octaves louder so than the jukebox tink-a-tink is swamped by his bass boom. Both glaring men huff and turn away from each other and back to their drinks.

"Who did that!?" Delaney grumbles looking at his bleeding hand and broken glass.

"Did you do that?" he turns to his skinny slobbery sidekick who holds up his hands in innocence.

"Here, this one's on me," Third-Eye pours a fresh spike and hands it to Delaney, "just drink it to yourself and don't make any waves on my shift."

He stomps over and does the same for Mad Jack. "OK," booms out Mad Jack, "just for that, I'll be nice as a school marm," and he splits out an enormous thundering laugh that quakes the bar, sounding like 20 fathoms of anchor chain hauling through a voice box.

Everybody in the bar slips back into their own buzz and fog of chatter, cheered up again by Mad Jack's braying.

"Here, you can be my interpreter," he tells Third Eye "Ask that slug-head that I would not bother disturbing the peace to strangle what the hell he means about that boat he was puking about a minute ago."

"OK, OK, just don't say anything to him, alright, I'll find out for you."

"I'll be a nice peaceable drunk. I just got to have a boat, that's all," says Mad Jack. Third-Eye rolls on down to Delaney and the three of them jaw back and forth for a minute. General rude chuckling issues from the customer side of the bar.