************************************************
The usual stuff blah blah blah. MacLeod, Dawson, and Methos belong  to
DPP. Richie paid me 5 bucks to say he doesn't live here anymore, and the
rest are mine --except maybe a certain Mary Sue who belongs to my best
friend in the whole universe <ducking>.

This story started as a challenge by Gerbil and Alis tonight on the
Richie List, to incorporate 21 specific silly t-shirt sayings into a
story. I hope they regret that as much as I do :)

No beta readers and not to be taken seriously.

If you REALLY want, you can fit this into my main fanfic universe, some
time between "Judgment" and "The World." There is a minor spoiler for
"Judgment" in this story, but it's too good a plot device to not use
here.

I couldn't help but make this story slightly slashy in parts, but
there's no sex involved. (sorry, Valerie!) There is also some crude
language here and there.

Feedback should be sent to Gerbil and Alis -- it's THEIR fault!
***********************************************

Part 1:

"Ah, another night at Joe's -- grand microcosm of the universe," Methos
announced as he strolled into his usual watering hole.

"Microcosm?" Richie questioned as he spied a free table over in the back
corner and gestured towards it with his hand. "Speak English, Old
Timer!"

"I thought I was," his elder muttered under his breath in annoyance as
he led the way towards their intended perch place for the night. With an
exaggerated groan he plopped his weary 5000 year old frame down onto a
hard wooden chair, only to rocket back up after a few seconds.

"Bloody hell, this chair's wet!" he whined as he looked around for a
towel.

"What's the matter, wet your pants Old Man?" Richie teased as he quickly
checked his chair for unpleasantries before sitting. "Maybe we should
pick up a box of Depends on the way home!"

Methos yanked a dry chair from the neighboring table and pulled it over
to Richie's side, wiping his hand over the seat just in case before
letting gravity take over once again. "Don't piss me off, Brat. I'm
running out of places to hide the bodies."

"What's *his* problem?" a familiar Watcher groaned as he made his way to
the Immortals' table with a pitcher of Methos' favorite beer and two
glasses.

"First day of classes at the University," Richie explained with a grin.
"Socrates here just found out that teaching isn't as easy as he thought
it was going to be."

"Ah, I *knew* it was going to be fun watching him try to deal with
freshmen," Dawson chuckled as he set the glasses down onto the table.

"There shouldn't be a rule against killing your students," Methos griped
as he impatiently grabbed the beer from Joe's hands. "It should be a
bloody sacrament!"

"Don't say that too loudly," Richie warned with a silly grin. "Mac's
supposed to meet us here later, remember?"

"At this point, I wouldn't mind if he *did* take you off my hands --
permanently," the elder Immortal snipped as he poured his beer far too
rapidly. The rising foam overshot the top of the glass, sending cascades
of the precious amber liquid rolling down the side and onto the table.
"Oh, look what you made me do now!"

"*ME*?" Richie replied in shock. "Hey, it's not *my* fault you can't
pour a simple beer. Must be the advanced age thing again. Next I suppose
you'll want me to cut your food up in small pieces for you"

"I don't think that's necessary," Methos answered as he gulped down a
mouthful of bubbles and beer. "But while we're on the subject of food,
why couldn't we have had a nice dinner this evening?"

"You were in a rush, remember?" Richie reminded Methos. "Besides, what's
wrong with Taco Bell?"

"Would you like the list in alphabetical order or order of importance?"

"Sorry, Old Timer. I didn't realize your digestive system was so
delicate. As for me, well, if we are what we eat, then I'm fast, cheap
and easy," Richie mischievously added with a wink.

"I think that's my clue to leave,"  Dawson noted as he turned back
towards the bar.

"Joe! Stay! Take a load off," Richie urged. "Don't make me deal with the
crab by myself!"

"Sorry, I'm tending bar by myself tonight and my only waitress is one
step away from becoming a mass murderer," the Watcher sighed as he
wearily rubbed his hand across his face.

Richie craned his neck and watched as the familiar woman collected two
glasses of wine from the bar. "What's wrong with Valerie tonight?" he
inquired.

"Her husband's outta town on business for a few weeks," Joe explained.
"Last time this happened, she was in a permanent bad mood the entire
time."

"Ah," Richie nodded knowingly.

"I'm *not* in a bad mood," the waitress explained shortly as she tossed
a coaster down onto the next table before delivering the round of
drinks. "You'll *know* when I finally get in a *bad* mood."

"Thanks for the warning,"  Methos muttered into his beer. He finished
the glass and helped himself to a much-needed refill.

"Good luck," Joe offered the young Immortal before slowly making his way
back to the bar.

"Thanks, I'm gonna need it," Richie noted. His head whipped towards the
door he felt his former teacher's presence even before the Scot set foot
in the place. With a relieved breath exhaled, he heartily waved the Scot
over. "Perfect timing," Richie noted as Mac reached their table.

"What's wrong with him?" MacLeod asked as he pull out the empty seat at
their table, noting the annoyed expression on the elder man's face.

"All stressed out and no one to choke," Richie teased with a wide smile,
nodding his head in Methos' direction.

"Looks like I have two prime candidates right at this table," Methos
warned them both.

"See what I mean?" the younger Immortal noted with a shake of his head.
"Seems he's no match for a coupla dozen co-eds. I don't know what your
problem is -- I thought they *like* older men. You should be right up
their alley, Methos!"

"There are a hundred people in that class, Brat! And ninety nine of them
have made it abundantly clear that they have absolutely no desire to be
there."

"Not up to the challenge?" Duncan teased. "That's a first!"

"Unless you have words of wisdom on how to deal with these narrow-minded
children or are ordering me another beer, I'll thank you to keep your
comments to yourself tonight, MacLeod," Methos warned as he gulped down
more beer.

"I think it's time for a beer," the Scot noted as he glanced around for
another glass. Seeing none, he waved over at Valerie. "A glass when you
get a chance!"

The waitress nodded in understanding as she rushed back to the bar with
her next collection of orders.

Noticing that the pitcher wouldn't suffice for much longer, Methos
pointed to it when Valerie dropped a glass off for the Highlander. "A
refill please."

"Yeah, yeah, keep your shirt on," the waitress griped unsympathetically
as she hustled off to another table.

"Next mood swing: six minutes," Richie noted with a raised eyebrow.

"Perhaps she takes pity on humorless Scots and small children," Methos
offered as he filled Duncan's glass. "As long as she brings me more beer
before I reach the bottom of my glass, no one will get hurt."

The couple who had been seated at the table to the Immortal's left
became vacant, but not for long. A burly bearded man with questionable
personal hygiene waddled over from the bar, hefting his jeans up to just
under his sizable beer gut before sitting with a pronounced grunt. He
waved a large chapped hand in Valerie's direction. "Hey, Babes -- I'm
dry!"

"Great -- then I don't have to worry about wiping a puddle off of your
table," she griped as deposited a new pitcher at the Immortals' hands,
then swooped the empty glasses off the redneck's table.

"Oooh, I like it when they put up a fight," the unidentified mortal
leered. "Bring me a Bud and a shot of tequila," he ordered. "If you let
me drink the shot off yer tits, there's a nice bonus in it for you," he
added with a lick of his lips.

Valerie looked him up and down with disgust. "Sorry, I don't like men
who's IQ is smaller than their dick," she countered before turning with
a flounce.

Bubba the Hutt undressed the waitress with his eyes as she rushed back
to the bar. "Yeah, I'd like to get me a piece of *that* dessert," he
loudly proclaimed to no one in particular. He turned his head to the
right and started explaining his desires to a rather unimpressed Methos.
"Wouldn't you like a piece of that?"

The Immortal sniffed and concentrated on his beer. "Sorry if I look
interested. I'm not," he griped, his eyes never meeting the mortal's
gaze.

"Why do people with closed minds always open their mouths," Duncan
murmured to his former student.

"Because talking doesn't take much brain power I guess," Richie noted
with a shrug as he refilled his beer.

Part 2:

Valerie reappeared a few minutes later, placing the ordered drinks onto
the table in a hurry before turning to leave.

"Oh, doncha wanna stay and help me drink those?" the mental midget
whined.

"I'm fine just as I am," the waitress noted firmly. "Besides, I'm
multi-talented: I can talk and piss you off at the same time!"

"Don't say that, baby," the customer pleaded with mock pain. "Guys have
feelings, too!"

Valerie stood and contemplated that thought for a moment. "Oh, yeah. But
like ... who cares?" she flippantly noted as she turned on her heels and
checked the Immortals' beer supply.

"Bravo, Valerie," Richie cheered. "I'm gonna buy you a t-shirt that says
'Warning: I have an attitude and I know how to use it'."

"Thanks, but I'd rather have a machete and a clear shot at his balls
right about now," the mortal laughed. "You guys all set?"

"For the moment," Methos noted.

"Is that guy really bothering you?" Duncan asked in all seriousness.

"Nah, he's obnoxious but harmless," Valerie answered.

"For now. If he gets out of hand ...."

"I'll be sure to give a yell," the waitress gratefully acknowledged as
she left for the bar once more.

---------

Twenty minutes later, Richie returned from a quick trip to the men's
room with a disgusted scowl on his face.

"What's up?" Duncan asked.

"Nothing, just hadda listen to the Neanderthal from the next table
describe in gory detail what he'd like to do to Valerie. I almost did
dentistry on him with no Novocain."

A loud belch heralded the aforementioned caveman's arrival back at his
table. "What's your problem?" he asked of Richie as he scratched himself
in a rather personal place. "I was just trying to be sociable."

"I'm busy. You're ugly. Have a nice day," Richie quipped before
returning to his conversation with the other Immortals. "See what I
mean?" he added with a lowered voice.

"Yeah, you too, asshole," the cretin shot back rather unoriginally with
an Italian salute.

"Hey, pal. It's America -- you have the right to remain silent, so
please shut up," Richie added for effect before shaking his head in
annoyance.

Valerie unfortunately picked that particular moment to pass by on her
way to a couple in the far corner.

"Hey, Baby, did you miss me?" Mr. Cro-Magnon teased quite
unappetizingly.

"How can I miss you if you won't go away?" the waitress volleyed back
without humor as she rushed by.

"Why do I have a feeling this guy's gonna be leaving on his face soon?"
Richie noted as he took a sip of his beer.

"I'd say the odds are approaching 1-1," Methos agreed. He looked over at
the Watcher behind the bar, who appeared to be barely keeping up with
the drink orders. "But I don't think our friend Joseph is going to be
the one to make him airborne."

MacLeod did a mental calculation of the force required to physically
move the Incredible Bulk. "I think we might have to help Joe out
tonight."

"Bloody hell," Methos groused as he wiped his face with his hand.

"Hey, you can take out your frustration on this jerk," Richie
encouraged.

"And your point is?" The oldest Immortal glanced at the plaid
flannel-shirted swine as his lip curled up in revulsion. "I'd need to be
disinfected after touching him."

"Okay, I think we should flip for it," Richie noted, reaching into his
front jeans pocket for a quarter. "Mac, you in on this?"

"Oh, I wouldn't miss this for the world," the Scot eagerly agreed.=20

"Okay, first you and the Old Man can call it, then I'll take on the
winner," the young man instructed. "Age before beauty yada yada," he
added. "Call it in the air," he explained as the coin shot upward from
his hand.

"Heads," Methos gruffly called. "No pun intended."

Richie snatched the coin and flattened it on his hand. "Heads it is!" he
informed them with a grin. "Now it's you and me, Old Timer,"

"I thought that came later," Methos couldn't help but tease. "All right,
let's go with heads again," he called as the coin left Richie's fingers.

The quarter fell back into Richie's palm and he slapped it onto the back
of his other hand before peering at the results hesitantly. A face
splitting grin instantly appeared.

"So it seems you're going to get to demonstrate your bouncer abilities,"
Methos noted with another guzzle of beer.

"Nope -- it was heads!" Richie triumphantly announced. "We get to see
you kick that troll's ass!"

"Great, and your first job is to make sure he doesn't pick now to go to
the men's room," MacLeod instructed with a slap on Methos' shoulder as
he excused himself from the table.

Methos rolled his eyes. "The things that turn you on are beyond me,
Brat!" he whispered when the Scot was out of earshot.

"Hey, I'm not the one who says 'don't worry, it'll only seem kinky the
first time ....'," Richie teased with a wink.

"So, just what *are* we doing later?" Methos inquired as he leaned in a
hair closer to the other Immortal.

"Oh, I was thinking you, me, whipped cream, handcuffs. Any questions?"

"Yeah, just one," Methos answered. "When do we leave?"

"Not just yet. I wanna see you deal with Mr. Personality here first." A
sly lopsided grin unfurled on Richie's face. "Pssst, ya wanna know a
secret? Nobody knows I'm not wearing any underwear." He wagged his
eyebrows for effect as he saw Methos' eyes twinkle in delight.

Richie's teasing was interrupted by the dorkmeister's renewed harassment
of Valerie.

"What time do you get off work, Baby?" he inquired as he patted her ass.

"Get your hands off me!" she warned with daggers in her eyes.

"Oh, c'mon Sweetheart, you *know* you want me!" the obnoxious customer
cajoled unsuccessfully.

"Oh *really*? That's news to me!" Valerie spat back as she hurried away.

"Hey, Attila, keep your hands to yourself unless you want to lose them,"
Methos suggested with more than a tinge of menage in his voice.

"Mind your own business, Buddy," the semi-drunk dullard retorted.
"What's your problem!"

Methos slowly leaned over towards the mortal and in his best Horseman
voice explained "I hate everybody and you're next. Please don't make me
kill you. I might enjoy it far, far too much." Seeing that the
mollusk-like brain of the man he stared down was still agile enough to
understand a serious threat, he leaned back in his chair with a smirk of
satisfaction on his face.

Ten minutes of relative calm passed before King Kong forgot the
important lesson he'd learned. As Valerie returned with a fresh pitcher
for the Immortals, the male chauvinist pig couldn't resist another grope
of the waitress' shapely bottom. Spilling some of the beer on the table,
the waitress plunked down the plastic container and whipped around,
smacking the offending jerk in the face. "You don't know me well enough
for that, asshole," she angrily explained. "And you're never going to!"

"I think we've had just about enough of your little Neolithic manners,"
Methos grimly announced as he pushed his chair back and slowly stood.

"This should be good," Richie whispered to MacLeod.

The evolutionary throw-back snickered as he stood to face his
challenger. Looking the deceptively lean body up and down, he smiled a
toothless grin reminiscent of a badly carved jack-o-lantern. "You want a
piece of me? Okay, let's go!" With that he tried to connect a right hook
to Methos face, instead coming up with thin air as the Immortal easily
avoided the punch.

As Richie wisely gathered the beer protectively from the table, he and
MacLeod stepped back to a safe spectator's distance. They watched in
amusement and approval as Methos grabbed the redneck's arm and twisted
it a misshapen pretzel before pushing the mortal face-down onto their
beer soaked table.

"Had enough?" Methos sneered as he rubbed the mortal's face into the
slimy wooden surface a few times for effect. "If not, I can continue
this little conversation until we reach an understanding.

"Owwww! Yeah, I got it!" the not-so-mighty barroom brawler acquiesced.
"Jesus, you're gonna break my freaking arm!"

"Yeah, I could," Methos snickered as if he was actually contemplating
doing just that. Instead he released the mortal and took one step back.

Rubbing his aching shoulder with his good hand, the customer backed off,
taking one step towards the door. "What the hell is with you, dude? I
wasn't doing nuthing wrong!"

"Well, I guess I'm one of those bad things that happens to good people,"
Methos sarcastically noted with a self-satisfied smirk.

Jumbo blinked twice as though he was willing neurons to fire in the
correct order. "What's your name?"

Methos glanced at MacLeod and Richie, then back at the mortal. "My old
friends used to call me Death. Remember my name ... you'll be screaming
it later -- if I ever see you set foot in this bar again. You got that?"

"Yeah," the mortal nodded, then turned for the door. As he hurried out,
he could hear applause break out behind him.

"My hero!" Valerie gratefully acknowledged, playing the
damsel-in-distress routine to the hilt. She threw her arms around Methos
and gave him a big wet kiss square on the lips.

"Hey, no fair! He just won the coin toss!" Richie complained in mock
disappointment. "I woulda done the same thing!"

"Oh, my *other* hero!" Valerie laughed as she threw her arms around the
younger man and squeezed him tightly before giving him a loud kiss.

Methos bowed deeply to the crowd before reclaiming his seat.

"Not bad," Duncan noted as he took his seat once again. "For a mild
mannered college professor."

"Bloody hell, MacLeod, you had to remind me about that, didn't you!" the
elder Immortal groused.

"Nice job, pal," Joe offered as he brought a full pitcher to the table.
"Here -- on the house."

"Hey, look on the bright side," Richie added. "If your career as a
teacher doesn't pan out, you can always be a bouncer!"

"Just hurry up and pour," Methos snipped. "All this activity has made me
thirsty."

"Old Man, *breathing* makes you thirsty!" Richie laughed ....

All in all, it was just another night at Joe's.

The End