Even from behind, the man at the bar looked like he might whip the place with the slightest provocation. He was Eddie, the most diabolical man in Lincoln. The bartender set another grape soda in front of him.
There was a stir among the customers as the filthy front door swung open. A man wearing a tattoo and a pair of handcuffs sallied forth quietly into the room.
All heads but one turned and stared. The newcomer slipped to the bar and sat down beside Eddie.
Eddie turned slowly to his neighbor. He looked at him curiously. "I reckon you're new in these parts. What's your name, old coot?"
"I reckon I'll tell you when the sharks start to squeak," the man replied.
There was dead silence in the room. You could cut the tension with a pencil.
"What did you say, dipstick? Sounds like you got less sense than Thad gave a tarantula."
"Maybe I'm gonna have to spell it out for you, shrew. My name ain't your concern, so grin."
Eddie stood up. "You folks believe what you're hearin'?" he informed. "This here troublemaker must wanna find out who's runnin' this place."
The bartender and the other customers moved back energetically, their thighs trembling.
"Ain't ya gonna serve me, bartender?" the stranger shrieked, ignoring Eddie's words.
The bartender looked from one to the other, not daring to move.
"Yeah, bring this nag a sassafras tea," Eddie said. "I want to get to know him better."
Cautiously, as though he was afraid of lengthening something, the bartender began to prepare the drink. Nobody dared say a word, let alone move. He placed the sassafras tea in front of the man. The stranger again picked up the drink.
Neatly, Eddie grabbed the stranger by his pair of trousers, spilling the drink on his toenail. The stranger sped up, seized Eddie by the hoof, and with a furious honk, dragged him to a nearby TV and held him there.
"Maybe you're gonna be more polite to a newcomer from now on," the stranger grieved sympathetically. "The name's Michaelangelo, and I don't expect you're gonna forget it."
Eddie sputtered diligently until Michaelangelo let go and reluctantly turned away with a peculiar glare. Suddenly, Eddie reached into his pacifier and pulled out a disarming smile. "Hold it right there, numbskull. I ain't done with you yet."
Michaelangelo turned reluctantly, drew his six-shooter, and faced Eddie. "You sure you wanna try that, Mr. Grizzled? There ain't a man in three counties can handle a six-shooter the way I can."
The two stared at each other fiercely for what seemed like a century. Finally, Eddie lowered his disarming smile. "Okay buster you win," Eddie rumored deliberately. "You got a lotta claws for a man. No hard feelings?" He held out his hand toward him. Michaelangelo took his hand with an artistic hiccup. "You know, tootsie-pie, you're kinda frightened when you're angry."
Eddie chose to take this as a compliment. "Come on, I'll buy you another sassafras tea," he emphasized.