A few hours later, you hear your uncle Ross say goodbye, along with a few other passersby who dropped in for a drink. You managed to stay safe in your prison, as safe as you could be, but you couldn't knock it over to escape! The only sounds echoing from outside the glass now are big Buck's mighty footsteps.
You hear him grumble from the outsides of the glass prison on the floor, and his bog trucker's leather boots echo towards the glass.
The giant bartender smirks down at his trapped little teen. He didn't know who you were, or where you came from. Frankly, the giant bartender didn't care. He carefully leaned down, his body sweaty from a day of hard work and dripping sweat atop the glass, and lifts the glass, cupping his palm on the glass, brushing against your sneakers, and lifting the glass to the bar.
As he turns the glass back right-side up, you tumble in the glass, making sure not to hit your head, and fall on your ass on the bottom of the beer glass.
The giant sets the glass on top of the old wooden bar, and peers down at you.
"Hello." He says, mildly exhausted, snickering down at you. "What brings a little man to Buck's bar?"
You stare at the devilish goatee of the giant, and feel his beer breath filling your nostrils. Its pungent and yet manly. His face is handsomely rugged and his muscles are defined in a pleasant coating of fat, which you notice from your cage. You stumble back to the side of the tall beer glass, and try to utter something.
"P-please, let me go! I just came here looking for my uncle!" You plead, which sound like miniscule squeaking to the giant. Before you can protest further,, however, the giant shakes his head, crushing your hopes of escape.
"Tsk, tsk, Little Runt." The rugged man calls you. "I can't hear a damn thing your saying! Mmm, if I didn't know any better, I'd say you liked being in the presence of such a glorious man!"
You sulk in fear, knowing how much of an ass this man was just from his southern voice: strong, commanding, and demeaning. He reaches in . . .