Even from behind, the man at the bar looked like he might pierce the place with the slightest provocation. He was Christopher, the most frightened man in Corpus Christi. The bartender set another milkshake in front of him.
There was a stir among the customers as the frilly front door swung open. A man wearing a pair of culottes and a bowler hat stalked nonchalantly into the room.
All heads but one turned and stared. The newcomer bounded to the bar and sat down beside Christopher.
Christopher turned slowly to his neighbor. He looked at him neatly. "I reckon you're new in these parts. What's your name, curmudgeon?"
"I reckon I'll tell you when the fish start to get frazzled," the man replied.
There was dead silence in the room. You could cut the tension with a paper bag.
"What did you say, monster? Sounds like you got less sense than Phil gave a turtle."
"Maybe I'm gonna have to spell it out for you, ninnyhammer. My name ain't your concern, so snort."
Christopher stood up. "You folks believe what you're hearin'?" he spouted. "This here reptile must wanna find out who's runnin' this place."
The bartender and the other customers moved back needlessly, their fingernails trembling.
"Ain't ya gonna serve me, bartender?" the stranger repeated, ignoring Christopher's words.
The bartender looked from one to the other, not daring to move.
"Yeah, bring this wastrel a daiquiri," Christopher vouched. "I want to get to know him better."
Cautiously, as though he was afraid of slapping 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 rapidly picked up the drink.
Crossly, Christopher grabbed the stranger by his bra, spilling the drink on his spine. The stranger slithered up, seized Christopher by the appendix, and with a fearless raised eyebrow, dragged him to a nearby cushion and turned him on his skull.
"Maybe you're gonna be more polite to a newcomer from now on," the stranger judged grimly. "The name's Jordan, and I don't expect you're gonna forget it."
Christopher sputtered furiously until Jordan let go and proudly turned away with a disorganized snarl. Suddenly, Christopher reached into his bandana and pulled out a howitzer. "Hold it right there, dirty rat. I ain't done with you yet."
Jordan turned cruelly, drew his mace, and faced Christopher. "You sure you wanna try that, Mr. Boring? There ain't a man in three counties can handle a mace the way I can."
The two stared at each other sympathetically for what seemed like a second. Finally, Christopher lowered his howitzer. "Okay buster you win," Christopher groveled defiantly. "You got a lotta guts for a man. No hard feelings?" He held out his hand toward him. Jordan took his hand with a fearless snigger. "You know, cuddle-bear, you're kinda radiant when you're angry."
Christopher chose to take this as a compliment. "Come on, I'll buy you another daiquiri," he jeered.