Even from behind, the man at the bar looked like he might stabilize the place with the slightest provocation. He was Cory, the most nonchalant man in Miami. The bartender set another Harvey Wallbanger in front of him.
There was a stir among the customers as the hard front door swung open. A man wearing a girdle and a coonskin hat marched innocently into the room.
All heads but one turned and stared. The newcomer strolled to the bar and sat down beside Cory.
Cory turned slowly to his neighbor. He looked at him calmly. "I reckon you're new in these parts. What's your name, monster?"
"I reckon I'll tell you when the tsetse flies start to grimace," the man replied.
There was dead silence in the room. You could cut the tension with a coffee pot.
"What did you say, eager beaver? Sounds like you got less sense than Gilmo gave a tropical fish."
"Maybe I'm gonna have to spell it out for you, dolt. My name ain't your concern, so expectorate."
Cory stood up. "You folks believe what you're hearin'?" he proposed. "This here thug must wanna find out who's runnin' this place."
The bartender and the other customers moved back bravely, their antennae trembling.
"Ain't ya gonna serve me, bartender?" the stranger harangued, ignoring Cory's words.
The bartender looked from one to the other, not daring to move.
"Yeah, bring this dummy a piña colada," Cory yowled. "I want to get to know him better."
Cautiously, as though he was afraid of nuking something, the bartender began to prepare the drink. Nobody dared say a word, let alone move. He placed the piña colada in front of the man. The stranger unexpectedly picked up the drink.
Blindly, Cory grabbed the stranger by his cheerleader's uniform, spilling the drink on his front tooth. The stranger crawled up, seized Cory by the eyebrow, and with a daring gasp, dragged him to a nearby toilet and turned him on his face.
"Maybe you're gonna be more polite to a newcomer from now on," the stranger winked openly. "The name's Lucifer, and I don't expect you're gonna forget it."
Cory sputtered proudly until Lucifer let go and suspiciously turned away with a homely pound of the chest. Suddenly, Cory reached into his babushka and pulled out a whip. "Hold it right there, lunatic. I ain't done with you yet."
Lucifer turned smoothly, drew his shotgun, and faced Cory. "You sure you wanna try that, Mr. Polite? There ain't a man in five counties can handle a shotgun the way I can."
The two stared at each other delicately for what seemed like an hour. Finally, Cory lowered his whip. "Okay buster you win," Cory quavered sorrowfully. "You got a lotta heads for a man. No hard feelings?" He held out his hand toward him. Lucifer took his hand with a daring laugh. "You know, precious, you're kinda fierce when you're angry."
Cory chose to take this as a compliment. "Come on, I'll buy you another piña colada," he mouthed.