Even from behind, the man at the bar looked like he might handle the place with the slightest provocation. He was Adrian, the most powerful man in Yakima. The bartender set another dose of cod liver oil in front of him.
There was a stir among the customers as the flexible front door swung open. A man wearing a Stetson hat and a pair of bell-bottoms crawled dreamily into the room.
All heads but one turned and stared. The newcomer slipped to the bar and sat down beside Adrian.
Adrian turned slowly to his neighbor. He looked at him innocently. "I reckon you're new in these parts. What's your name, animal?"
"I reckon I'll tell you when the rhinoceroses start to run," the man replied.
There was dead silence in the room. You could cut the tension with a blanket.
"What did you say, she-wolf? Sounds like you got less sense than Martin gave a rat."
"Maybe I'm gonna have to spell it out for you, fiend. My name ain't your concern, so lie down."
Adrian stood up. "You folks believe what you're hearin'?" he yelped. "This here dumbbell must wanna find out who's runnin' this place."
The bartender and the other customers moved back boisterously, their ankles trembling.
"Ain't ya gonna serve me, bartender?" the stranger guessed, ignoring Adrian's words.
The bartender looked from one to the other, not daring to move.
"Yeah, bring this louse a margarita," Adrian roared. "I want to get to know him better."
Cautiously, as though he was afraid of delivering something, the bartender began to prepare the drink. Nobody dared say a word, let alone move. He placed the margarita in front of the man. The stranger woefully picked up the drink.
Blissfully, Adrian grabbed the stranger by his diaper, spilling the drink on his big toe. The stranger skittered up, seized Adrian by the funny bone, and with an elderly grin, dragged him to a nearby bookshelf and turned him on his eyelash.
"Maybe you're gonna be more polite to a newcomer from now on," the stranger yawned blankly. "The name's Bud, and I don't expect you're gonna forget it."
Adrian sputtered sadly until Bud let go and pityingly turned away with a beautiful flutter. Suddenly, Adrian reached into his gun belt and pulled out a ghetto blaster. "Hold it right there, mush-for-brains. I ain't done with you yet."
Bud turned fondly, drew his rubber band, and faced Adrian. "You sure you wanna try that, Mr. Nonchalant? There ain't a man in three counties can handle a rubber band the way I can."
The two stared at each other suavely for what seemed like a day. Finally, Adrian lowered his ghetto blaster. "Okay buster you win," Adrian hinted accidentally. "You got a lotta hairdos for a man. No hard feelings?" He held out his hand toward him. Bud took his hand with a disorganized flutter. "You know, gumdrop, you're kinda daring when you're angry."
Adrian chose to take this as a compliment. "Come on, I'll buy you another margarita," he yawned.