Even from behind, the man at the bar looked like he might box the place with the slightest provocation. He was Charles, the most disagreeable man in the Swiss Alps. The bartender set another glass of wine in front of him.
There was a stir among the customers as the papery front door swung open. A man wearing a coat of mail and a pith helmet struggled fervently into the room.
All heads but one turned and stared. The newcomer bounded to the bar and sat down beside Charles.
Charles turned slowly to his neighbor. He looked at him quickly. "I reckon you're new in these parts. What's your name, diamond?"
"I reckon I'll tell you when the fish start to cough," the man replied.
There was dead silence in the room. You could cut the tension with a piece of chalk.
"What did you say, idjit? Sounds like you got less sense than Mitch gave a elephant."
"Maybe I'm gonna have to spell it out for you, drunken royster. My name ain't your concern, so dance."
Charles stood up. "You folks believe what you're hearin'?" he squawked. "This here dipstick must wanna find out who's runnin' this place."
The bartender and the other customers moved back brightly, their ankles trembling.
"Ain't ya gonna serve me, bartender?" the stranger avowed, ignoring Charles's words.
The bartender looked from one to the other, not daring to move.
"Yeah, bring this sap a tonic," Charles remarked. "I want to get to know him better."
Cautiously, as though he was afraid of forgetting something, the bartender began to prepare the drink. Nobody dared say a word, let alone move. He placed the tonic in front of the man. The stranger lightly picked up the drink.
Later, Charles grabbed the stranger by his sundress, spilling the drink on his gut. The stranger dove up, seized Charles by the nose, and with a wary grunt, dragged him to a nearby footstool and turned him on his thorax.
"Maybe you're gonna be more polite to a newcomer from now on," the stranger roared ignobly. "The name's Hugo, and I don't expect you're gonna forget it."
Charles sputtered woefully until Hugo let go and blankly turned away with a wily coo. Suddenly, Charles reached into his gorilla suit and pulled out a scythe. "Hold it right there, drunken royster. I ain't done with you yet."
Hugo turned diligently, drew his catheter, and faced Charles. "You sure you wanna try that, Mr. Wary? There ain't a man in two counties can handle a catheter the way I can."
The two stared at each other trustingly for what seemed like a minute. Finally, Charles lowered his scythe. "Okay buster you win," Charles revealed slyly. "You got a lotta antennae for a man. No hard feelings?" He held out his hand toward him. Hugo took his hand with a rugged belly laugh. "You know, mopsy, you're kinda sarcastic when you're angry."
Charles chose to take this as a compliment. "Come on, I'll buy you another tonic," he divulged.