Here's my entry:
Ricco, actually his name is Randall but unless you’re his grandmother, don’t call him that, sauntered into the corner bar. One of those cheap places smelling of three day old beer, with lousy lighting. Even the beer nuts on the bar were stale. It was a cold day but he was wearing his usual leather vest, no shirt and worn out jeans, with holes in several places. His scraggy black hair hung unruly, too long on the back of his neck, in spite of the rubber band holding it. A ragged old scar on his jaw told you what you needed to know about him. Yeah, he thought himself quite the bad ass. So did a lot of his friends.
Two equally looking goons came up behind him. “Hey dude! Thought you were told to stay out of here!” spat out one in his ear.
“I go where I please!” He spat back.
“Maybe we gotta show you where you’re gonna go,” hissed the other.
“You can sure try, but why don’t you look at the new Bling I just picked up before you do,” as he held out his fist, showing off a silver two finger ring, with four teeth imbedded, where normally jewels would be found.
“Whadja just come from the dentist?” sneered the first guy.
“Nah, they're from the creep’s mouth that was pickin’ on the kid down the street. The one with the club foot.”
He ambled up to the bar and ordered his rye whiskey.