[Puke]

"Well, that certainly seems a bit like overkill, but i'm not going to be the one to stand in the way of an Irishman with a pie-launcher."

puke grabs a jar of gherkins from the bar, and pours the entire countents into his gullet. with a room-shaking convulsion, he bealches the little things out onto the floor where they begin crawling about under their own power, and newly bestowed with sentience.

Tossing a fistfull of sword and spear shaped swizzle sticks to his newly formed Gherkin Army, puke decrees "Go forth my minions, and rid this place of our foes!"

after which the armed and militant Gherkins begin madly scrambling up chair legs, stool legs, and pant legs, and stabbing random patrons in the posterior. After a couple winces of pain, Mac looks positively annoyed. Powerman wonders why a small pickle is poking his armor with a piece of plastic.

"not quite as sentient as i hoped they would be..." complains puke, meekly.