"What is this Texas you speak about!? I guess it's true about pretty girls! Oh, wait, YOU'RE A GUY!" Laughing, most likely from the alcohol, made it sound odd and just crazy as Emile charged Lance as well, and do to the very short distance they were at it basically was very short and they collided. Emile grabbed Lance's long hair and ripped quite a bit of it out. "I'm gonna take your hair and DYE it as green as your wife's hair!"
"Tara is NOT Irish!" Lance snarled, kicking Emile in-between his daddy-long-legs, and falling back, bringing the large compact body of muscular muscles down with him. The two of them slamming against some glass, they bled, before the alcohol soaked itself into their veins. "I FEEL LIKE A WOMAN!~" the Village Leader sang, before rolling Emile off of him, and slipping to stand back up.
Emile got to his feet and threw his last bottle at Lance, of course missing once more and doing more damage to the wall. "THIS HAIR," Emile shouted loudly as he took the hair he ripped out and shoved it in his mouth, "IT'S BROWNIE FRIES!" Slapping his chest quickly, he pulled out a small survival knife and bore it toward Lance. "They're mine..." He sprang forward and charged Lance, flailing the knife around.
Positioning his body right-steady, Lance drew a real sword from out of his sleeve, and pointed it at Emile, roaring, "Enguarde!" Seconds after, he slipped and hit the floor, knocking the wind out of him. "Ouch... me bosom." he cried, before Emile tripped over him, sending him right through the door, and into a table filled with bowls of cauliflower, sitting just in*the hall, next to a high-skirt waitress. Moments later, a frightening scream followed, leading to the disposal of Lance and Emile, and a tale lost in mystery.