[ WP ] Summarize a well-known war as if it was a barfight between countries .

As always, it all begins when somebody drinks too much. 
 
 `` None of you understand my struggle,'' people ca n't tell if he's slurring the words or if it's just his accent. `` Four and a half fucking years of struggle against lies, stupidity and cowardice.'' 
 
 `` Fuck is'e on about?'' an elderly gentleman sipping sherry asks a younger man drinking beer across from him. The younger man shrugs. `` Do n't know, do n't care, Dad.'' 
 
 `` You know, when I encountered the Jew in Vienna, I was nice to him,'' the drunken lecture continued. A few ears turned to the speaker at the possibility of this anti-semitic rant. `` Ja! I was nice to him! And how does he repay me? He bleeds me dry. I am a shadow of my former self.'' He takes a very long swig before continuing. `` Mark my words, *untermenschen*, he will do the same to you.'' His flourish accidentally tips over a glass belonging to a lone man brooding at the very edge of the bar. 
 
 `` Oi, oi,'' the old man nudges another of the patrons at the bar. `` Best get the sod home sharpish.'' 
 
 `` Kurwa,'' the small man nods, and sets his drink down before walking slowly to the drunk preacher. Barely ten paces away, the lone brooding man has stood up and is facing the drunkard, their noses inches away. 
 
 `` Excusez moi.'' 
 
 `` Ja?'' 
 
 `` You have spilled my drink. I would like you to replace it.'' 
 
 Tense seconds passed. The drunkard leans in to the other man's face. `` You... you are one of them, bleeding me dry. You are nothing now. I could take you, you know.'' 
 
 `` Try it, pig.'' 
 
 `` Hey, hey Deutsche! Deutsche. Come on, let's go home.'' 
 
 And then it began. 
 
 The drunk Deutsche misunderstood the small man's hand on his shoulder as an attack. `` DO N'T YOU TOUCH ME WITH YOUR FILTHY MONGREL HANDS!'' he backhands the man, who is completely unprepared. Angrily and with a speed belying his size, Deutsche jumps onto him and rains down blows upon his face. 
 
 The old man and the tall brooding man both jumped into action. Both tried to separate the big man from the smaller one, beaten to a bloody pulp by the drunkard's large meaty fists, both shouting at him in their respective accents to stop this madness. The small man's hands went limp on the floor. 
 
 `` Arretez! Arretez, you maniac!'' 
 
 `` Stop it, Christ, you're killing the poor lad!'' 
 
 But the large man did not stop. Annoyed by the interference, and sensing no more resistance from his first target, Deutsche turns his attention to the brooder - by roughly elbowing him in the stomach. Standing up, hitting his face with one, two solid punches, he grabs the tall man by the waist and throws him into a table at which a few other patrons were sitting. There was no reasoning with him now. `` BLITZKRIEG!'' He shouted, and began to pummel everything in sight - but paid special attention to the tall man, now curled up defensively trying to avoid the worst of the big man's blows. Soon there was none who would stand against him but the old man. 
 
 `` Back off,'' Deutsche snarled, `` I do n't want to fight you.'' 
 
 `` Too late for that, mate... By Jingo, someones' got ta stop you,'' the old man barely managed to finish his sentence before Deutsche charged him, almost seeming to fly as he leaped across the room. Both collapsed to the floor, the big man on top, raining blows like bombs from the sky. 
 
 `` Son,'' the old man cried, almost pathetically, `` Son, help me!'' 
 
 But the big man he was drinking with was gone. The old man used to get around a lot, however, as a few of his other sons seated at the other end of the room stood up to defend their father. Before they could make it, however, each of them felt a large, meaty finger tap their shoulders in quick succession. 
 
 `` Mi scusi, amico,'' was the last thing they heard before they were knocked down. Fists the size of trains rained down on them, knocking them down for the count before they could even move. A large, boisterous but short man grinned, cracking his knuckles. `` Maybe let your padre fight his own battles, si? Bene! I'm glad you agree.'' 
 
 Deutsche raised his eyebrow at the fat man, who laughed. `` I happen to agree with you. You and me, we are alike, no? Too long have these bastardi bled us dry. Now it is our time.'' 
 
 Meanwhile, the big beer drinking man, the largest of the old man's sons, had left his table to try and break up a minor brawl at the other end of the bar. Several patrons were already beaten bloody. One stood tall over the other one, demanding loudly that his spilled drink be paid for. 
 
 `` Hey,'' the beer man said, distracting the attacker long enough for his opponent to crawl away. `` It's not worth it. Let it go.'' 
 
 The attacker, a man who normally kept to himself, stared down the old man's son with bloodlust in his eyes, his face framed with long black hair normally kept tied in a bun atop his head. Clearly, the big man thought, things are not normal over here. 
 
 `` Who are you, gaijin,'' the black haired man spat, `` to meddle in my affairs? Go away, and I will not harm you.'' 
 
 `` Back away, Tojo,'' the big man snarled, `` And we all go home in one piece.'' 
 
 Tojo smiled. `` You ca n't stay here forever, Little Boy. Your father is in grave peril. Soon you will be, too. And when your back is turned?'' He cracked his knuckles in the big man's face. `` Banzai.'' 
 
 It was at this point that the bartender, a small, mousy man, gathered enough of his courage to speak up. `` Hey, hey, everybody calm down. Deutsche, you started this, you can still stop it. If you just back away-'' 
 
 `` Nein,'' Deutsche hissed. `` I've been paying for your drinks for far too long.'' 
 
 `` Deutsche, please listen to reason!'' 
 
 `` NEIN! No longer will the Ubermensch be held back. We will take our rightful place at the top of the food chain... when we cleanse the impure.'' He stood, panting and gasping. The entire bar stared at him, a blood covered madman whose lust for power was only growing and growing. 
 
 Deutsche stepped toward the tall man, the one that had opposed him before, and grabbed him screaming by the hair towards the kitchens. The bartender could only cower in fear. Deutsche threw the tall man to the floor and fired up the ovens. 
 
 `` This is the only way,'' he snarled, eyes wide, the alcohol no longer holding the insane beast in check. `` this is the only way to ensure our race survives the onslaught of the untermenschen.'' 
 
 `` What are you doing? Stop!'' The old man cried ineffectually. Deutsche ignored him, but paused when a large shadow loomed over him. 
 
 `` That is enough, tovarisch.'' The shadow belonged to a giant, his face covered in a large matte of tangled beard. `` You are going too far.'' 
 
 `` And you,'' Deutsche snarled, unperturbed by the giant's size. `` did not go far enough. I thought you hated them, and their tyranny. What would Marx do, hmmm?'' 
 
 `` Not this, tovarisch,'' the giant shook his head. `` And besides, you are simply another tyrant to overthrow. Best you stop now, or I go all Bolshevik on you.'' 
 
 Deutsche smirked. `` You can try.'' Without warning, he stuck the tall man's hand inside the oven. For a short moment, nothing was heard but the screams of the tall man and Deutsche's insane laughter. 
 
 And then it was chaos. 
 
 The giant roared, `` URAAA!'' and tackled Deutsche, who fought ferociously despite being half the giant's size. Deutsche's portly ally cackled and began attacking the giant. The old man and the tall man helped each other up and pulled Deutsche off the giant, raining blows on him as he had done to them before, fists landing in between cries of `` Enculer, Fils de putre!'' and `` Fucking cunt, fucking CUNT!'' Meanwhile Tojo, at the other end of the bar, took advantage of the chaos to brutally subdue and beat bloody all of his former drinking buddies, screaming'BANZAI!' at the top of his lungs. At the centre was poor Little Boy, desperately trying to simultaneously help his allies and stop the aggression. 
 
 Tojo saw an opportunity, one that could turn the tide of the brawl in his and his allies' favor. Breaking a bottle, Tojo charged and stabbed Little Boy in the back. He screamed, his cry of anguish and pain echoing around the room. Little Boy turned, shocked at first, then his eyes slowly filling with anger. 
 
 `` So that's how it is? Fine,'' he snarled, and tried to make his way back to his seat. Deutsche saw, and tried to bar his way - whatever Little Boy wanted, he had to stop. 
 
 He was shocked when Little Boy charged head on, pushing him back to the floor and started kicking him. His father, the tall man and the giant joined him in beating him down. Once Deutsche stopped moving, they turned their attention to the other two troublemakers, both moving in. 
 
 `` No,'' Little Boy said, to nobody in particular. 
 
 `` Boy?'' his father asked, an eyebrow raised. 
 
 `` No.'' Little Boy dashed to his seat and pulled out a yellow box, decorated with a ship with black sails on it, labeled MANHATTAN. He reached in, and just as Tojo charged to stop him, pulled out a revolver and fired two shots at the man. 
 
 The loud booming stopped everyone dead in their tracks, the only sound being Tojo screaming and falling back in pain. Smoke mushroomed from the nozzle, and all eyes were on Little Boy. 
 
 `` Merde.'' 
 
 `` Scheisse.'' 
 
 `` Shit. Son, what... what did you do?'' 
 
 `` Now we are all sons of bitches,'' he said softly, his gun still smoking. 
 
 *Author's Note: All historical inaccuracy is a result of my own ignorance. This was hella fun to write, and I may re-do it properly with more historical accuracy someday. *
