Waitresses remember the faces of bad tippers

"Okay, did one of you piss off the waitress?"
He glared around at the table and everyone looked back in confusion.  They responded with a chorus in the key of no.
"Because I have just recieved the worst fortune cookie of all time."
"It'll probably get better if you add 'in bed' to the end of it." commented the man across from him.
"Okay," his voice dripping with sarcasm, "Lets try that. 'You will die a painful death... in bed.'"
His glare intensified.  "That was real helpful numbnuts."

"You've got to be kidding me." said the taller man with the broadsword strapped to his back as he looked at the pile of objects in front of him.  The squat man was now half naked, standing behind the heap, looking well contented.
"You've turned nearly everything that you own into a weapon."
"Of course." said the shorter man, grinning even larger.  "This is the only time in six years that I have been completely unarmed.  And trust me, having several concealed blades on me at all times has saved my life repeatedly."
"Several my ass." He arched an eyebrow at the pile.  He'd counted the number of knives, concealed and otherwise, that had gone into the heap.  There had been over two dozen.  That didn't even include the stillettos and spikes.
"Well, lets just say that I never like being without a handful of last resorts."
"You can't tell me that you have a use for all of them."
"You misunderstand the purpose.  I don't have a single use for each one, but I do have several options for every situation.  Didn't you read the the words on my crest? 'Le couteau juste'."

The trainstation was getting pretty full, but there was still room around one bench.  The men sitting on it were all well armed, and all clearly dead.
"So," said one with a vast number of bullet holes in him.  "I could tell what happened to the other guys before they sat down, mostly" he said with a glance at a man sitting at the end of the bench, who appeared to be translucent, "but what's your story?"  He looked pointedly at the newest occupant on the bench.
The man looked grey, like stone, all except for one arm, which still looked human.  Unlike the others, his only injury was his index finger, which looked like it had been ripped off and reattached.  The finger was a small matter when compared to the fact that one of the others looked like his body had been scraped out of a blender and reassembled like a set of meat legos.  Another man was in a similar condition, but only from neck up.
"Teleported.  Into a rock wall."
They all looked suitably impressed.
"I think I was the only one though, because none of my friends are here." he said while glancing around at the many deceased people milling around on the platform.  No one asked how he knew that they weren't there.  They all knew if their friends were there.  He looked at the man with the post exploded head, saying "Are you Zeke?"
Zeke frowned, grotesquely distorting his face.  "It's Ezekiel.  I see you met Dee and Johann."
"Yeah, Dee's the one who put me in the wall."
"Sounds like Dee." said Ezekiel with a snort.  The others watched this exchange with bemusement.  It was the first time that anyone on the bench and any link to each other.
"Well, get used to the bench."

I simply stood there, still dripping, looking at the intruder.  She was tall, reptilian, with shimmering green skin, and a roguish look in her eye.  I didn't bother to cover myself.  She had to have known I was in the bath and wanted to catch me naked in order to throw me off my stride and control the situation.  I didn't care, she was either a threat or a prospect, and covering myself wouldn't gain me a damn thing.  I just stood there, watching her picking through my weapons, waiting for her to make the first move.
"You have quite a collection here."  she murmured in a feminine baritone.  "A magical rock, a magical throwing knife, a very magical bow, and a magical... whatever the hell this thing is."  She said while holding up my three bladed boomerang.  "And that's not including your other magical equipment.  And yet, you dress like a refugee, and behave like a barbarian.  Something doesn't add up."
"Nothing in this town adds up." I smirked.
We stood there, the unopened challenge hanging over us.
"You've been asking around about me."  She stated, matter of factly.
"Yes.  And now you've found me.  That's convenient."
"I had you followed after your gladiatorial debut.  What the hell do you want little man."
"You."  I arched my eyebrow so she wouldn't misunderstand my meaning.  She did anyway.
"What about me."
"Well my plan had involved dinner and a couple of drinks, and then we'd be here in my room naked, but we can do it the other way around I guess."
She scoffed and clouds of acid smoke puffed from her nostrils.  "I wasn't born yesterday, what do you really want?"
"Really, I just wanted to make time with you."  I was beginning to think that I might have to give up on getting some tail.  It suddenly occurred to me to wonder if she had a tail, but because of the way she was sitting I couldn't tell.
"I would start talking if I were you." her slitted eyes narrowed menacingly.  "I have all of you weapons, and I could crush you with my bare hands.  You aren't here just to pick up women."
"Your right.  But what I am here for has nothing to do with you.  I just thought that you were too attractive to just let you get away." I then gave her a Look, and saw her guard start to slip.
"Yeah, right." she snorted derisively again.

Imagine how they'd feel about silly string

"What do you mean chocolate?"
"Check it out."  He reached his hand into his coat and pulled out a clip of ammunition for the pistol he was holding.  Steve looked at the bullet at the top of the clip, and sure enough, there, at the end of the copper shell, where there should have been a round piece of lead, there was instead  piece of chocolate in the same shape.
The blue/green man grinned at him and said.  "They really hate chocolate.  If you shoot them anywhere near the mouth or noses, it's pretty much an instakill."
"Why don't you just use bullets?"
The colorful man just laughed.  "They like bullets.  Apparently bullets and knives tickle them.  Oh, that reminds me."  he reached into his coat and pulled out a handfull of party baloons.  He inflated two of them and held them by the knot in his free hand.  He looked at Steve and said, "In case we get into melee.  They hate balloons."
Steve just crouched behind the fallen log, listening to the sounds of the loony tunes theme song filling the air, and though once more that this was the wierdest day he'd ever seen.