"An easy job, eh?"

"Ja. You vill be scout's... how you say... butler. You vill stay here in ze base and serve him vhen he vants, no exceptions."

The demoman's shoulders sunk. He really had gotten himself into a real low. In shame he hung his head. Having nothing else to say he muttered, "Well... ah, might as well git started on tha'..."

************

"An'... an' that's tha time ah wrestled with a crocodile in outer space!" the demoman laughed, holding up his bottle of booze happily.

"Yeah, right... whatever, man. All I wanted was a can of BONK... if you can't handle that, I'll do it myself," the scout mumbled angrily, glaring at his servant. He'd merely asked for his energy drink but had instead gotten an obviously fake and drunken story.

"Baw, no sense o' humour on ya, lad!" the demoman chuckled, "Ah'll beh right back with yer stupid drink."

He stumbled to the fridge, fumbling through its contents until he found the energy drink. Sneakily he opened it, pouring about a fourth of it down the drain. To replace the lost liquid he filled it up with what he was drinking, some of his hardest liquor.

He wanted to show the scout a good time, and this was how he'd do it.

Upon returning to the waiting scout he handed over the can and said, "'ere lad. Ah even opened it up for you, me boyo."

The scout took the can, withholding even a simple 'thank you' and chugged the drink. He was worn out from a morning of batting heads and wanted a major energy boost before he went back out there.

"Yer welcome," the demoman chuckled, waiting to see (or rather hear) the effects of his modified drink. He hoped that the scout would make a cheerful drunk.

"What... what is this crap?" the scout complained when he was done, a sour look on his face. Even then he could tell that something beside the taste was seriously wrong.

"Somethin' special. Ya need ta loosen up a bit, lad," the drunkard smiled.

As the drink flowed through his system he could feel its effects. First he became dizzy before mellowing out. Before too long he was lying on the floor limply. He could barely move. Though the demoman didn't realize it in his drunken state, something was terribly wrong.

"You dumbass..." the scout whispered with his last breath, glaring at his unknowing killer.

::End part 7::

Remember kids, never mix hard liquor and BONK!

Yup. He messed it up. Whatever will he do now?

TF2 (c) Valve