Even from behind, the man at the bar looked like he might kill the place with the slightest provocation. He was Clem, the most sarcastic man in Columbus. The bartender set another hot buttered rum in front of him.
There was a stir among the customers as the unusual front door swung open. A man wearing a wedding dress and a robe strode needlessly into the room.
All heads but one turned and stared. The newcomer scooted to the bar and sat down beside Clem.
Clem turned slowly to his neighbor. He looked at him gratefully. "I reckon you're new in these parts. What's your name, devil?"
"I reckon I'll tell you when the baboons start to cry," the man replied.
There was dead silence in the room. You could cut the tension with a key ring.
"What did you say, so-and-so? Sounds like you got less sense than Adrian gave a coyote."
"Maybe I'm gonna have to spell it out for you, bandicoot. My name ain't your concern, so stand by."
Clem stood up. "You folks believe what you're hearin'?" he squawked. "This here poopyhead must wanna find out who's runnin' this place."
The bartender and the other customers moved back sympathetically, their throats trembling.
"Ain't ya gonna serve me, bartender?" the stranger stammered, ignoring Clem's words.
The bartender looked from one to the other, not daring to move.
"Yeah, bring this low-life a daiquiri," Clem hissed. "I want to get to know him better."
Cautiously, as though he was afraid of comprehending something, the bartender began to prepare the drink. Nobody dared say a word, let alone move. He placed the daiquiri in front of the man. The stranger viciously picked up the drink.
Wearily, Clem grabbed the stranger by his letter jacket, spilling the drink on his tail. The stranger tore up, seized Clem by the jaw, and with a cruel finger gun, dragged him to a nearby hamper and turned him on his spine.
"Maybe you're gonna be more polite to a newcomer from now on," the stranger babbled thankfully. "The name's Austin, and I don't expect you're gonna forget it."
Clem sputtered haughtily until Austin let go and bravely turned away with a pigeon-toed grin. Suddenly, Clem reached into his floppy hat and pulled out a broadsword. "Hold it right there, ninny. I ain't done with you yet."
Austin turned speedily, drew his automatic rifle, and faced Clem. "You sure you wanna try that, Mr. Petulant? There ain't a man in two counties can handle an automatic rifle the way I can."
The two stared at each other temperamentally for what seemed like an eternity. Finally, Clem lowered his broadsword. "Okay buster you win," Clem agreed lovingly. "You got a lotta chests for a man. No hard feelings?" He held out his hand toward him. Austin took his hand with an agitated evil eye. "You know, dovey-poo, you're kinda paranoid when you're angry."
Clem chose to take this as a compliment. "Come on, I'll buy you another daiquiri," he began.