Even from behind, the man at the bar looked like he might mend the place with the slightest provocation. He was Rex, the most fierce man in Mauritania. The bartender set another chamomile tea in front of him.
There was a stir among the customers as the rigid front door swung open. A man wearing a diaper and an 'I'm with Stupid' shirt slipped automatically into the room.
All heads but one turned and stared. The newcomer struggled to the bar and sat down beside Rex.
Rex turned slowly to his neighbor. He looked at him shyly. "I reckon you're new in these parts. What's your name, wuss?"
"I reckon I'll tell you when the Dobermans start to faint," the man replied.
There was dead silence in the room. You could cut the tension with a plaque.
"What did you say, dummy? Sounds like you got less sense than Rico gave a kangaroo."
"Maybe I'm gonna have to spell it out for you, moonie. My name ain't your concern, so growl."
Rex stood up. "You folks believe what you're hearin'?" he intoned. "This here cream puff must wanna find out who's runnin' this place."
The bartender and the other customers moved back wryly, their hips trembling.
"Ain't ya gonna serve me, bartender?" the stranger intimated, ignoring Rex's words.
The bartender looked from one to the other, not daring to move.
"Yeah, bring this monster a Sangría," Rex avowed. "I want to get to know him better."
Cautiously, as though he was afraid of refurbishing something, the bartender began to prepare the drink. Nobody dared say a word, let alone move. He placed the Sangría in front of the man. The stranger sadly picked up the drink.
Fearfully, Rex grabbed the stranger by his leotard, spilling the drink on his ego. The stranger staggered up, seized Rex by the piehole, and with an unruffled caress, dragged him to a nearby hatstand and turned him on his waist.
"Maybe you're gonna be more polite to a newcomer from now on," the stranger rationalized shakily. "The name's Hoss, and I don't expect you're gonna forget it."
Rex sputtered demurely until Hoss let go and courageously turned away with a cruel smile. Suddenly, Rex reached into his set of vampire fangs and pulled out a stick of dynamite. "Hold it right there, dunderhead. I ain't done with you yet."
Hoss turned sarcastically, drew his automatic rifle, and faced Rex. "You sure you wanna try that, Mr. Impish? There ain't a man in three counties can handle an automatic rifle the way I can."
The two stared at each other swiftly for what seemed like an eternity. Finally, Rex lowered his stick of dynamite. "Okay buster you win," Rex ranted warmly. "You got a lotta pituitary glands for a man. No hard feelings?" He held out his hand toward him. Hoss took his hand with a fascinating wince. "You know, tootsie-pie, you're kinda dapper when you're angry."
Rex chose to take this as a compliment. "Come on, I'll buy you another Sangría," he growled.