IF this story were a musical, this would be the part where the irritated bad guy with the tattoo dances around like in "A Chorus Line" - only in this version, instead of the number being called "At the Ballet", this one is called "I Am Going To Beat Your Face In With My Nostril Hairs Alone, Buddy".
Typical. Especially since my counterpart is often mistaken for a grown version of Erkl.
Fortunately, Erkl knows 40 lanugages, enough Kung Fu styles to be mistaken for somebody from inside the Matrix, and is erratic enough to confuse just about anybody long enough to either get away, or be mistaken for Patrick Swayze in "Roadhouse" (minus the looking-anything-like-Patrick-Swayze part).
On second thought, I'm not sure all of that's fortunate.
Eagle Tattoo reached to grab Erkl's something or other, but Erkl was too quick. Privates were punched and eyeballs were poked before I could yell "Sybil, time for your medicine."
Great. Bartender guy was on the phone instantly, probably calling the cops. Tattoo guy was on the floor, moaning and cursing. Erkl was leaning against the bar now with a bloody forehead from where he blocked the guys fingernails, whistling "Karma Chameleon."
I'm quite sure it's never a good idea to take Erkl outside. Ever.
"Is it time to go yet?" Constance/Fritz/Nuwanda/Bob/April/Getty/Moon/Blanche/Rosario/T-Dog said in some kind of faux English accent. He/she looked at his nails and shook his head. Blood ran down the side of his face and onto his t-shirt that read "Fletch Lives!".
"Yes! Let's go! Now!" I herded my cheap-ass help out the door while the bartender shook his fist at the heavens.
I shoved him into the car and slammed the door, which he did not like.
He turned to me as I got in and tortured the ignition and floored it.
Erkl: "Hey, girlfriend, that is NOT how we do it downtown, y'hear?"
Me: "Oh shut up."
Oh, I know what you're thinking, so you shut up too. That whole 'twins are psychically connected so you can easily see what she sees and find her' thing is total crap.