I'LL BE HONEST, FOLKS—my blood runs colder than an Arctic river at that moment. This isn't going to end well.I cock my head to the side, my lips forming a thoughtful 'O.' Now, what have I called him again? Oh, right—Mr. Bean Head and his glorious bald dome. I've really gone and stirred the pot now, haven't I?“I say I want a mug of beer!” I chuckle nervously, trying to backpedal faster than a clown on a unicycle. But my new friend isn't buying it. Not one bit.“No, no,” he growls, his chest heaving like a stormy sea. “What did you call me?”I clear my throat, scrambling for a way to defuse the situation. “Uh, I said, Mr. Blonde Head!” I lie, hoping he'll buy it.“But... I'm not a blonde,” he says, his brow furrowed in confusion.Well, if he wants the truth, I'll give it to him. My lips curl into a mischievous smirk. Oh, this is going to be good. “If you're not a blonde,” I say, drawing out the moment, “then that means you're a...”I pause, letting the tension build like a pressure co
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