Time stopped, as General Freedom’s eyes wandered when the dwarf began talking. He could see the security guards for the golf course rushing forward in their bright green and white cart, a yellow light flashing atop it. Both were portly men used to drinking beers and eating high calorie foods, sitting on their ponderous posteriors watching monitors. Occasionally they would make their rounds, glad-handing and jovial men whose active law enforcing days were far behind them.

A low snarl escaped as he cast a glance at the dwarf, now shirtless. "I'm gonna feed you that stupid word that you keep calling me, lightbulb." The bearded mini-me exclaimed.

Jimmy Christmas! Was it a thing taught everywhere in the universe? Ego-maniacal droning monologues. His eyes lingered on the scars, this was going to be a tough fight if it came to it, those scars didn’t come easy and anyone capable of surviving such damage was a tough customer.

“Hold that thought bub!” General Freedom said as he leaped into the air, landing with a resounding thump behind the cart, and with a casual hand grabbed the back of the it. Still holding the rear end, he looked at both men, whose wide-eyed gaze told him all he needed to know.

“Gentlemen, thank you for your concern, but let me handle this.”

With a nod, the driver tilted his head, “Put us down General and go give that runt a pounding.”

As the cart roared away, General Freedom turned back to the alien; he smiled sheepishly, “Sorry you can continue your threatening monologue now. I just had to ensure those two wouldn't get hurt in our melee.”