Burt Macklin

"Well hello there, Pister Merry, it is a pleasure to meet a gentleman such as yourself." Burt smiled wide, but was met in return with a blank stare. "Well," he said nervously, "is it hot here or what?" He chuckled nervously, rubbing the back of his head. "I'm certainly not upset by that little blaster bolt, I uh...I'm sure it was just a good natured prank. And if it wasn't no harm no, no foul! That's what I always say..." This man is certainly dangerous, but he IS drunk. Burt made his living off exploiting people based on vice, and he was always eager to jump into an opportunity that could lead to business. Exploiting or appealing to drunk people had gotten him everything in his business life, as well as his love life. The ground slightly trembled, and Burt turned to see who had walked inside. My goodness, that is a fat sonuvagun. After a pause, he realized, At some point, I guess I should change my pants.

The laser round slammed right in front of him. Burt fell backwards out of his chair, landing on the floor flat on his back. His head made a sharp crack as it collided with the floor, and his shirt rode up to expose his hairy, protruding gut. A few patrons laughed at his expense, and he unceremoniously collected himself and rose to his feet. However, that took 2 or 3 awkward attempts until successfully completed. Wiping some slobber from his mouth with the back of his hand, he realized his pants had also fallen substantially down. He awkwardly pulled them up with one hand, and drew his blaster with as much confidence as he possibly could. The blaster flew out of his greasy, fat fingers and landed considerably far from him. Nobody even noticed. Approaching the two men from behind, Burt sheepishly rubbed and played with his shirt, uttering out an "Excuse me sirs?" When the two men turned around, Burt was so nervous and startled he broke wind. He cackled nervously and said "I think that one was a bit wet boys. My name is Burt Macklin."