A short ways down the highway sits a biker bar.  Inside the bar is Calvin.  A 5'11" anthro chihuahua.  He's chubby, but healthy.  He wears a leather Harley Davidson jacket over a dirty old Nirvana t-shirt, acid washed jeans, and biker boots.  Calvin's not a bad person per say, he's not very nice, but he'll try to play hero if the situation arises, even though he's done some terrible things for his gang.<br/><br/>Calvin lights another cigarette and takes a swig of beer.  He's trying to mind his own business when a human comes up behind him.<br/><br/>"I thought I told you not to come in here, Cal!" Says the human.<br/>"And I told you to fuck off, Joe, I helped start this bar!  I'll have a drink here if I damn well please," replies Calvin.  Calvin gets off the barstool and turns to face the human.<br/><br/>The human has a pool cue.<br/><br/>"I told, this place is under new management," says the human.<br/><br/>"Really?  That's it then?  Years of blood sweat and tears go into this place, and I'm out?" Asks Calvin.<br/><br/>"Yeah," says the human, putting the tip of the pool cue against Calvin's throat, "that's how it is."<br/><br/>"Well, you see, we don't like that," says Calvin.<br/><br/>"Who's we, sucker?" Asked the human.<br/><br/>"Me and my good old Buddy Wider!" Shouts Calvin as he swings his beer mug.  He shatters it against the humans head.<br/><br/>The bar erupts into a free-for-all.  Calvin gets out in one piece.  "Damn kids," he mutters as he climbs on his Harley Davidson Ultra Classic.  He starts it, revs the engine, and heads off down the road.