Phule’s Paradise by Robert Asprin

Glancing around the bar in mock anger, Lobo caught the Legionnaires watching him, as he had expected.

“What are you looking at, freak?” he challenged, ignoring the woman to deal directly with the monster.

The massive Legionnaire shrugged and turned back to his companion.

“Hey! Don’t look away when I’m talkin’ to you, freak!”

Lobo pressed, rising from his seat and approaching the other table. “What are you doin’ in here, anyway? Doesn’t this place have a leash law for pets?”

The woman opened her mouth to respond, but the monster laid a restraining hand on her arm.

“Sorry … not mean to stare,” the monster said haltingly. “My eyes not like yours. Sometimes look like I stare.”

“Hey! He even talks funny!” Lobo said, turning to make his appeal to the bar’s other customers only to find the few occupied tables had been deserted, their occupants seeking quieter surroundings for their drinking.

“Tell you what, babe,” he said, focusing on the smaller Legionnaire. “Why don’t you send this freak back to his kennel and let me buy your next round?”

“I’m happy where I am, thank you,” the woman shot back coldly.

“With him?” Lobo laughed. “You military chicks can’t be that hard up! What you need is a real man.”

“Not talk like that,” the monster rumbled. “Dangerous.”

“Oh yeah?” his tormentor sneered. “You want to try to do somethin’ about it … freak?”

Of course, what the Voltron was referring to was something that Lobo was missing completely, focused as he was on his target. The small waitress who had served him his drink was now marching toward him from behind, still holding her now-empty metal drink tray.