Mork at the pub

The brawl at the pub had spilled into the street outside. There's a big hole in the shape of an ork silhouette in the wall. Orks send punches at each others faces, and a few have even started using goblins as bludgening weapons. Mork sighed. He hates breaking up a good fight, but best to stop it before it got really out of hand. An ork suddenly flies out a window, and lands with a thud in front of his feet. He chuckles and picks him up, throwing him back in there. He enters the pub itself. The place is a mess. Not a single piece of furniture has been left untouched, and the floor is littered with bleeding bodies. Alive from the looks of it, but still, they'll wake up with pains in the morning. The fighting gradually grinds to a halt as Mork walks through the centre of the room, until only two orks are left fighting, oblivious to his presence. It's Bork and Gurg. Of course. The usual troublemakers.

He swiftly grabs both of their heads and slaps them together, sending them both reeling to the floor. They groan as they writhe.

"Okayz, whos started it ya' pus-boils?"

Gurg is the first one to get up. "We's were playin' who-last-longerer-before-cum-cum, but then Bork started it! He cheat!"

"Gurg poor loser! Gurg win fair and square!" They look like they're about to have at it again, but Mork quickly thunks them on their heads.

"SHUT IT! Me just realise me don't actually care! Ya' two get no meat till next circle moon! Now beat it ya' scum!" Bork and Gurg both scamper out of the pub. "An' fix the feckin' pub tomorrow!" Mork puts his hands on his hips, looking at the mess, ocassionaly kicking a piece of debris. "What'cha lookin' at? Feck off, all of ya'!" The pub is soon empty save for him. He stomps over to the counter, rummaging behind it. He finds an unsmashed bottle. He uncorks it and takes a swig, nodding while swishing it about his mouth.

"It's good to be the betterest."