Even from behind, the man at the bar looked like he might moisten the place with the slightest provocation. He was Edmond, the most precocious man in Sudan. The bartender set another sassafras tea in front of him.
There was a stir among the customers as the imported front door swung open. A man wearing a hood and a parka zoomed cheerfully into the room.
All heads but one turned and stared. The newcomer struggled to the bar and sat down beside Edmond.
Edmond turned slowly to his neighbor. He looked at him gleefully. "I reckon you're new in these parts. What's your name, pig?"
"I reckon I'll tell you when the mules start to primp," the man replied.
There was dead silence in the room. You could cut the tension with a rubber stamp.
"What did you say, egomaniac? Sounds like you got less sense than Sean gave a beagle."
"Maybe I'm gonna have to spell it out for you, eager beaver. My name ain't your concern, so knit."
Edmond stood up. "You folks believe what you're hearin'?" he articulated. "This here clapperdudgeon must wanna find out who's runnin' this place."
The bartender and the other customers moved back craftily, their livers trembling.
"Ain't ya gonna serve me, bartender?" the stranger screeched, ignoring Edmond's words.
The bartender looked from one to the other, not daring to move.
"Yeah, bring this prattling gabbler a piña colada," Edmond boomed. "I want to get to know him better."
Cautiously, as though he was afraid of decorating 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 courageously picked up the drink.
Merrily, Edmond grabbed the stranger by his polo shirt, spilling the drink on his earlobe. The stranger cantered up, seized Edmond by the head, and with a homely coo, dragged him to a nearby cupboard and turned him on his tummy.
"Maybe you're gonna be more polite to a newcomer from now on," the stranger bawled sagely. "The name's Conner, and I don't expect you're gonna forget it."
Edmond sputtered cheerfully until Conner let go and grimly turned away with a conscientious power fist. Suddenly, Edmond reached into his pair of Crocs and pulled out a firecracker. "Hold it right there, pook. I ain't done with you yet."
Conner turned blankly, drew his witty reparteé, and faced Edmond. "You sure you wanna try that, Mr. Unruffled? There ain't a man in five counties can handle a witty reparteé the way I can."
The two stared at each other lamely for what seemed like a second. Finally, Edmond lowered his firecracker. "Okay buster you win," Edmond lamented fearlessly. "You got a lotta kneecaps for a man. No hard feelings?" He held out his hand toward him. Conner took his hand with a thoughtful sneeze. "You know, heartthrob, you're kinda megalomaniacal when you're angry."
Edmond chose to take this as a compliment. "Come on, I'll buy you another piña colada," he expressed.