[ WP ] It 's 1912 . You 're drinking at a pub when a mysterious man dressed in a strange garb walks in ...

Otto slammed his empty beer mug back onto the table, motioning to the skeptical barkeep for a refill. `` Mehr'', Otto growled across the empty bar. 
 
 `` Jawohl, Otto...'' Rudolf hesitantly glanced at the empty mug, then to Otto's frothy mustache, finally trimmed in the manner of the Kaiser's, then back at the mug again. He slowly, with the manner of a man worried he is poisoning his friend, refilled the drink, and casually handed it back to Otto. `` If you want to talk about what happened...'' Rudolf cautiously began. 
 
 Otto snorted, opened his gullet, and downed the glass in one go. Rudolf's bright red face dowered a bit. But who could blame Otto? After being laid off from the Mill for evacuating the building from a fire, he returned home early to find his wife in bed with Konrad. Konrad, Rudolf, and Otto had been friends as long as the three could remember, and this betrayal would stick with them forever. 
 
 The door to Rudolf's bar opened, and Rudolf shuddered as a gust of November Munich air blew in. `` Close the door, bitte...'' Rudolf trailed off. 
 
 `` Go away, Konrad.'' Otto began. But the man who entered the bar was not Konrad. Konrad was a slight man, hardly taller than 5 and a half feet. But this man was a giant, perhaps 7 feet. The man remained in the doorway, bringing in drifts of light snow. `` I said ***BLOODY WELL GO AWAY RIGHT NOW, BEFORE I SLAM THIS GLASS INTO YOUR FACE*** Otto screamed, arms akimbo. He jumped up, whirled around, and looked ready to actually kill the man he thought was Konrad. And for a moment, he attempted to carry it out. In his drunken stupor he could not realize the noticeable size difference between Konrad and the stranger, and ran straight for the doorway. 
 
 `` ***OTTO, NO! ***'' Rudolf pleaded, running to hold back Otto. But he was too late. Otto had long since been the best runner of the three friends, and he was almost upon the stranger. 
 
 But at the last moment before impact, the stranger almost lazily raised his arm and knocked out Otto with a firm blow first to his hand to knock the glass on the ground, then another just as sudden to knock Otto to the ground. Otto fell, pride wounded, but otherwise alive. Rudolf worried for a moment that he was dead, but then realized Otto was merely out cold. He shrugged. Perhaps that would help him feel better about his life. 
 
 `` Danke for that, meine Herr.'' Rudolf nodded to the man. `` I sometimes think of doing that myself around here.'' 
 
 The stranger nodded and put a large piece of gold on the table. `` That should cover the glass, and any troubles I may have caused you.'' 
 
 Rudolf looked at the gloved hand on his bar, then to the arm, then to the rest of the man. He was dressed strangely, in an almost Arabic garb. Although it would n't seem suitable for the nearly sub-zero temperatures outside, the man looked quite comfortable. 
 
 The man sensed Rudolf's confusion. `` Pardon me. My name is Ishmael Pasha, from Istanbul.'' His voice was deep and gravely, and Rudolf seemed to gravitate to the man. 
 
 Rudolf looked into the man's eyes. It was about this time that Rudolf noticed this strangely garbed Turkish man was actually about 600 feet tall and from the paleolithic era! 
 
 Rudolf glanced upward at his oak roof, the last thing he saw before a tentacle strangled him to death. `` Anne Frankly, I did Nazi that one coming.''
