Exit.

So Stinky P has left town. Apparently, he swiped some liquor from a group of tailgaters, and then proceeded to brandish a rusty hunting knife at them (in front of the bar, no less) when they caught up with him. Jackass. After that, he ran inside and locked himself into a closet to hide. Not very smart, nor is it good for business. Then again, meth and crack are not generally known to promote intelligence.
Four days prior to this incident, Stinky P arrived on the doorstep of a guy we know (I'll call him L). It was two in the morning, and it was pouring rain, so L let him in to crash on his couch.
"But you have to shut up and go to sleep," L said firmly, "'cause I gotta get up at seven for work."
An hour and a half later, L was awakened by screaming. L ran downstairs.
"What the fuck?" is effectively what he asked Stinky P.
P had no idea where he was or what was going on, and he threatened L. L told him to either shut the hell up and go to sleep or get the fuck out, which is much nicer than what I would have done.
P threatened L. L told him to get out.
L got a few hours' sleep and went to work, and stopped for a drink later that night. When he saw Stinky P, P sat down and asked L for some of his beer. L refused. P got angry. He was apparently unaware that anything had happened the previous night. So basically, he flipped out a little. This was the pre-flipout flipout. Then he really flipped out, got banned form the bar (after the knife brandishing incident), and was heard to say
"I think I'm gonna split for awhile" before apparently splitting.
Whew.