Invite the man to settle this in a civilized manner, in the empty parking lot behind the bar. Once you are there, slit his throat with a concealed knife.
Smash the man's head off the bar, knocking him out cold. Then finish your drink. You'll take this one on the house.
Ignore the man, pay for your drink, and leave. If the man follows you outside and continues to bother you, he will deeply regret it.
Throw your drink in the man's face. While he is briefly stunned, escape.
Offer to buy the man a drink in an effort to diffuse the situation.
Shatter your glass on the bar, then slash the man's eyes out. While he screams in pain and terror, demand another drink. You leave a generous tip for the bartender.
Beg the man not to hurt you. Tell him you have a heart condition, and if he hits you, it could be fatal.
You wonder why a man who saves lives as his day job is so aggressive on his time off. Perhaps he's had a rough week, and it might be better not to take it personally. Ask him what his problem is. It'd be best if you could resolve this peacefully.
Apologize to the man for whatever offense you've caused him. On your way out, take his wallet.
It is towering and powerful, heaving with fury. It will crush you like an insect.
It defies logic. It is a mysterious creature of dizzying complexity that makes your head spin and your thoughts lose focus.
It takes the form of those closest to you, warping their faces and tormenting you with visions of them in pain and sorrow.
It is a ghost, made of mist and air. You try to destroy it, but it fades and reappears when you try, humiliating you with sneering laughter. Even with all the strength in the world, you are powerless.
It is you when you were at your weakest, your most frail. You despise the memory of that person. You wish it would no longer stain who you have become.
Every day of my life is a nightmare.
A folk song, filled with wise lyrics and strong imagery. The singer's voice is rough, but they are a master storyteller.
Euphoric, wailing guitars, surreal images, distant and dreamlike, but strangely comforting.
A groovy number from the mid-70s. It immediately makes you feel better about the rain outside.
An arena-rock anthem from the glory days. A ballad played on piano, but with power and pride, that tugs at the heartstrings. You've sung it in the shower countless times.
Nothing. The radio crackles and falls silent. You look out the window, at the rain, at the traffic, barely moving. So still.
An eerie song. The instruments feel detuned, ominous. The lyrics are disjointed and unsettling. It makes you feel a little paranoid as if someone had just stepped over your grave.
You turn and run. They might be armed and desperate. Your personal safety is what's most important.
You don't normally think of yourself as a materialistic person, but these imbeciles just crossed a line. The police can take care of them, but you'll teach them a lesson first, no need for a gun.
You let out a strangled cry and charge forward, caving the first thief's skull in with the rifle butt. The second thief panics, sprinting out the front door. You calmly walk to your car, drive after him, and ran into him at full speed, reversing over his lifeless body several times. How dare they ruin your carpet.
You take the gun and order them not to move, waiting for anger to wash over you to pass. Undoubtedly they came here to rob you, but breaking the vase was most likely unintentional. It's best to think before you act impulsively. There may still be a way to turn the situation to your advantage.
You fall to your knees and burst into tears, pitifully grabbing handfuls of your mother's ashes and - with a whimper of despair - curling up into the fatal position on the carpet. The thieves look down at you with a mixture of horror and disgust.
You take the gun from the wall and shoot the two thieves. For all you know, they could have been armed and were probably planning to commit further robberies.
You take the gun and shoot the thief who broke the vase in the leg, both as payment for his disrespect and to inhibit him from moving. You kick the other thief to the floor and keep them both there until the police arrive.
You own up to what happened. The other driver does not deserve to take the fall for what you were ultimately responsible for. If you comply with the authorities honestly, the court will take that into account.
Feign ignorance. If the other driver believes they were responsible, there is no reason for you to suffer the consequences and have this on your criminal record. If they don't even know what just happened, surely that is their fault. Right?
Both of you are equally responsible for the death of the pedestrian. If the other driver is confused about the details of what has transpired, you can take control of the situation as you know all of the information. Calm them down and tell them the story that the police need to hear. The pedestrian caused the accident by running out into the street without giving either driver enough time to react.
You caused the accident because you're pathetic, worthless slime. The police need to take you away and execute you, so you can finally be free and won't ruin others' lives.
Kill the other driver, and remove the evidence of everything that has transpired. Whether the result is good or bad for you, there are too many loose ends here. There are things to do, and you can't be worrying about this.
No matter what, you and your lover are getting on that lifeboat. If it means you have to tailor a well-crafted lie to ensure that both of you are suitable candidates, then so be it. You must survive. The captain and deckhand should stay behind, as it is their duty, and the old man doesn't have much time left anyway. If anyone tries to stop you, then there will be more than enough room for the remaining few.
Ethically the correct answer is that you stay behind with the deckhand and captain. But self-preservation is an integral component of the human condition. You spend this crucial moment analyzing the character of the remaining people to deduce why any of them should stay on board.
You have already thrown yourself into the icy depths below.
You shape your own destiny. These scenarios are futile. All of these people mean very little in the grand scheme of things and will likely not achieve much with the lives they have been given. You take the lifeboat by force, and you take it alone.
You, the captain, and the deckhand will stay behind, allowing the rest to go on the lifeboat while the three of you formulate an alternative plan to escape the ship. They are most familiar with this difficult scenario while you have a knack for figuring out a plan and are a born leader.
A non-alcoholic beer.
Triple Vodka and Red Bull.
A glass of red wine.
Tap water. Or ask the bartender to piss into a glass. That's the best you deserve.
Ask the bartender to serve you whatever they would drink.
A tall figure, like a person. It stands at the foot of your bed.
A shape you can't fully determine. It moves quickly around the wall near the window. Is it just one creature... or more?
Is it in the air or on your skin? There is a presence somewhere in the room, but you can't figure out where.
As your eyes adjust, you realize the room is empty, but outside on the street, you can faintly make out a shape in the glow of the streetlamps. Someone, or something, is watching you.