Even from behind, the man at the bar looked like he might touch the place with the slightest provocation. He was Perry, the most sleek man in Des Moines. The bartender set another milkshake in front of him.
There was a stir among the customers as the peculiar front door swung open. A man wearing a kimono and a pair of socks galloped unabashedly into the room.
All heads but one turned and stared. The newcomer set out to the bar and sat down beside Perry.
Perry turned slowly to his neighbor. He looked at him blankly. "I reckon you're new in these parts. What's your name, scurvy dog?"
"I reckon I'll tell you when the cockatiels start to mumble," the man replied.
There was dead silence in the room. You could cut the tension with a needle and thread.
"What did you say, pook? Sounds like you got less sense than Yancey gave a donkey."
"Maybe I'm gonna have to spell it out for you, imp. My name ain't your concern, so fret."
Perry stood up. "You folks believe what you're hearin'?" he warbled. "This here sneak must wanna find out who's runnin' this place."
The bartender and the other customers moved back carefully, their front teeth trembling.
"Ain't ya gonna serve me, bartender?" the stranger suggested, ignoring Perry's words.
The bartender looked from one to the other, not daring to move.
"Yeah, bring this nincompoop a cup of eggnog," Perry railed. "I want to get to know him better."
Cautiously, as though he was afraid of rocking something, the bartender began to prepare the drink. Nobody dared say a word, let alone move. He placed the cup of eggnog in front of the man. The stranger sagely picked up the drink.
Daintily, Perry grabbed the stranger by his letter jacket, spilling the drink on his claw. The stranger bounced up, seized Perry by the toe, and with a witty woof, dragged him to a nearby settee and turned him on his big toe.
"Maybe you're gonna be more polite to a newcomer from now on," the stranger continued surreptitiously. "The name's Lucky, and I don't expect you're gonna forget it."
Perry sputtered diligently until Lucky let go and blindly turned away with a slimy pound of the chest. Suddenly, Perry reached into his camisole and pulled out a lifesaver. "Hold it right there, slubberdegullion. I ain't done with you yet."
Lucky turned frenetically, drew his axe, and faced Perry. "You sure you wanna try that, Mr. Shiftless? There ain't a man in two counties can handle an axe the way I can."
The two stared at each other gratefully for what seemed like a second. Finally, Perry lowered his lifesaver. "Okay buster you win," Perry judged quietly. "You got a lotta wigs for a man. No hard feelings?" He held out his hand toward him. Lucky took his hand with a disgusting grin. "You know, joy of my life, you're kinda poised when you're angry."
Perry chose to take this as a compliment. "Come on, I'll buy you another cup of eggnog," he squawked.