A Canuck Came Down to Georgia...

>Be a lamia bartender in Georgia.
>There's been a young man coming to the bar lately.
>Sweet kid 'round your daughter's age. Andy Onymous, though you've taken to just calling him 'Anon'.
>Came all the way down from Canada for his brother's wedding.
>One of your regulars, an elven marine, has taken to calling him 'Sunshine' and enjoys making him fidget slightly under her teasing.
>God, if all Canucks are this adorable, you wouldn't mind having a few more around.
>One night, God saw fit to answer your wish.
>In retrospect, you really wish he hadn't.

>It's two in the morning and it's just you, Anon and the elf left.
>You really could just close up at this point, but you do enjoy the company... that and the old elf seems quite taken with her little 'Sunshine', and you did so enjoy playing the matronly matchmaker on occasion.
>Just as the elf leaves to go to the bathroom, a gaggle of drunken harpies come barging through the door.
>Their eyes immediately lock on the lone boy at the bar.
>Dark skinned with pale cheeks, you knew the like; seasonal visitors from Anon's country.
>You try to offer them a drink, but they completely ignore you as they sit and stand around Anon, making every effort possible to be within his personal space.
>Your stomach churns- somewhere deep in your gut, you know something bad is about to happen.
>"I smell the Canuck on ya, Bud."
>"Bet yer a lil' bitch-boy Toronto, aren't ya Bud?"
>"What'cha doing down here, Bud?"
>He tries to tell that one off, another loudly hisses right in his face to cut him off.
>"I'm sorry, Bud, couldn't hear ya. Could ya say that again?"
>Again he opens his mouth and again he's cut off as another loudly hisses right into his ear.
>"What's a matter, Bud? Ya leave yer balls at home?"
>"Speak up!"
>You're frozen in place as this is happening, part of your mind begs you to grab the 12-gauge you have sitting under the counter, while another holds you in place and makes your hands shake.
>Anon, for his part, has gone completely silent.
>Well, save for the sound of the spidercracks forming on the heavy glass tumbler in his hand.

>"Hey, Bud, yer lookin' awful red." one said, smacking the boy up the head with a webbed foot, causing Anon to visibly seethe.
>He doesn't answer, the glass in his hand starts cracking faster.
>"Ya got somethin' to say, Bud?"
>Smack.
>"HEY. BUD."
>As the same harpy reels back for a third hit, you find your voice.
>"H-Hey!"
>Five sets of drunken angry eyes suddenly lock themselves onto you.
>"I think y'all shoul-"
>"Oh look, she had a thought."
>"Ain't that cute?"
>You actually do start going for your gun as they start laughing at you.
>Then you hear the sound of glass breaking.
>You didn't know humans could make the kind of noise that comes out of Anon's throat as his elbow fires back into one of the girl's ribs before he spins around and damn near caves in another's face with his now-bleeding fist.
>The other three suddenly reel back, letting out a series of terrified honks, having apparently not even considered the possibility of actually having to -fight- the Canuck.
>"WOAH. BUD. CALM DOWN, BUD."
>Between the most vile string of curses to ever pollute your ears, you do make out one thing...
>"I AM NOT YOUR FUCKIN' BUDDY."
>And then he broke a barstool over her face.

>You called him 'Sweetie-pie' a few times.
>That adorable little Canuck who fidgeted when the elf called him 'Sunshine', just pulled a harpy out of the air and broke a pool-table in half with her back.
>Said elf was now sitting, leaning on the counter beside you just watching the whole spectacle.
>She could stop all this in a heartbeat, but instead she's just sittin' there, watching the whole thing with a surprisingly placid expression.
>When you go to raise your gun, she actually puts a hand on your shoulder to stop you.
>"Let him burn out Honey, trust me."
>This does little to set you at ease as one of the girls finds the courage to break a bottle of Hennessey over Anon's head.
>For which Anon would pull her shirt over her head (a maneuver the Elf'd later laughingly tell you was called 'jerseying') and straight drill her in the face a few times with his fist.
>This madness would go on for another five or so minutes until all the harpies that were able managed to stumble out the door and escape the storm of ass-beat they'd brought on themselves
>Anon, for his part, just stood there catching his breath as he came back to his sanity.
>It's probably around then that he realized that he just destroyed your bar.
>Avoiding eye-contact, he limps up to the bar and, with some effort (what with one hand full of glass and all his knuckles cut open by now) fishes a large wad of bills out of his wallet and gently places it in front of you.
>He then offers a meek little "Sorry..." and quietly leaves.
>Still in some shock from the whole ordeal, you just sit there on your coils and watch him go.
>The elf, on the other hand, chooses that moment to finish her drink.
>"Honey, I've served alongside Canadians in both World Wars, Korea and Afghanistan, and let me tell ya... if we didn't let them get their goose-rage out once in a while, they'd probably burn the whole damned planet to the ground."

>She takes the wad of cash from in front of you and hands her credit card as she stands up to leave.
>Before you can even protest, she holds up her hand to cut you off.
>"The kid's battered, bloodied, full of booze and adrenaline and now..." She holds up the money in her hand as she says this "Probably flat broke, so I better go make sure he's alright."
>As stunned as you are, you almost miss the "...Before I take him home and fuck him 'til the walls stink." she adds as she walks out the door.
>You sit in silence for a good ten minutes before finally looking down at the card in your hands.
>A retired Colonel's credit card
>"Yeah, that should just about cover it." you find yourself saying out loud.
>A pained 'Honk!' from the remains of your pool table sounds in agreement.