Show what an old man can do

The man is a dozen years younger than you, perhaps two inches taller and clearly spends a good deal of time in the gym. Chances are this prick was a high school jock who was used to others backing down when faced with his size and athleticism. All the muscle mass in the world doesn't help in a fight if you don't know what you are doing. The fact that he is resting his left hand within easy reach on your shoulder tells you this man hasn't had a tenth of the training you've had.

"Look, I don't want -" You speak gently to put the man at ease but as soon as you get a grip on his hand you twist it over and pull it straight onto the beer-stained table in front of you. Your right forearm saws along his extended arm just above the elbow digging into the cluster of nerves and twisting him even lower until his face is level with the tabletop. From this position he can do little more than squirm like a rat in a trap; each time he tries to pull away you dig in even deeper with the arm-bar and twist his fingers until they are pointing straight up at the light hanging above the booth.

"We should go now." You tell Monica who is staring at you with a combination of surprise and admiration, thankfully she slides easily from her side of the bench without further prompting. With a firm twist of his arm you capture the attention of your uninvited guest. "The Lady and I are leaving, we don't want any trouble. Got it?"

You get no response from the man and it is hard to gage his reaction as most of his face is hidden by the table, but you really don't have any choice in the matter. His friends are still stunned by the sudden change in the nature of the encounter, but they won't be for long. Sliding free of the bench you plant your good leg on his hip and as you step away kick him forward under the table where he lands face-first in a popcorn covered section of dirty floor.

The dash out of the bar is made easier by the fact that more than a few of the customers saw how easily you had handled yourself and step back giving the space you need. There were others though that protest as you propel Monica firmly through the crowded dance floor to the outer doors. From behind, you could hear the angry roar of the embarrassed jock and a quick glance back as you push through the doors shows far too many of his friends joining him.

Sliding the thick handle of a push-broom conveniently leaning near the door through the 'D' shaped handles of the door buys you a few seconds, but by the time you and Monica are on your Indian, the door crashes open and nearly a dozen pissed-off locals pour out onto the porch.