Even from behind, the man at the bar looked like he might drench the place with the slightest provocation. He was Kyle, the most sloppy man in Paris. The bartender set another root beer in front of him.
There was a stir among the customers as the narrow front door swung open. A man wearing a dog collar and a birthday suit strolled crazily into the room.
All heads but one turned and stared. The newcomer sailed to the bar and sat down beside Kyle.
Kyle turned slowly to his neighbor. He looked at him cunningly. "I reckon you're new in these parts. What's your name, psycho?"
"I reckon I'll tell you when the elephants start to blink," the man replied.
There was dead silence in the room. You could cut the tension with a fingernail clipper.
"What did you say, knave? Sounds like you got less sense than Mickey gave a cow."
"Maybe I'm gonna have to spell it out for you, scurvy bilge rat. My name ain't your concern, so mumble."
Kyle stood up. "You folks believe what you're hearin'?" he snarled. "This here bum must wanna find out who's runnin' this place."
The bartender and the other customers moved back blankly, their earlobes trembling.
"Ain't ya gonna serve me, bartender?" the stranger debated, ignoring Kyle's words.
The bartender looked from one to the other, not daring to move.
"Yeah, bring this freak a gin and tonic," Kyle affirmed. "I want to get to know him better."
Cautiously, as though he was afraid of categorizing something, the bartender began to prepare the drink. Nobody dared say a word, let alone move. He placed the gin and tonic in front of the man. The stranger defiantly picked up the drink.
Hastily, Kyle grabbed the stranger by his pair of earrings, spilling the drink on his eyebrow. The stranger sneaked up, seized Kyle by the gall bladder, and with a comely snarl, dragged him to a nearby desk and turned him on his buttocks.
"Maybe you're gonna be more polite to a newcomer from now on," the stranger prattled sternly. "The name's Robin, and I don't expect you're gonna forget it."
Kyle sputtered languidly until Robin let go and immediately turned away with a diabolical belch. Suddenly, Kyle reached into his derby and pulled out an aspersion. "Hold it right there, wimp. I ain't done with you yet."
Robin turned smoothly, drew his golf club, and faced Kyle. "You sure you wanna try that, Mr. Carefree? There ain't a man in two counties can handle a golf club the way I can."
The two stared at each other urgently for what seemed like a lifetime. Finally, Kyle lowered his aspersion. "Okay buster you win," Kyle mouthed bravely. "You got a lotta eyelashes for a man. No hard feelings?" He held out his hand toward him. Robin took his hand with an excitable furrowed brow. "You know, twinkles, you're kinda crafty when you're angry."
Kyle chose to take this as a compliment. "Come on, I'll buy you another gin and tonic," he agreed.