Even from behind, the man at the bar looked like he might hide the place with the slightest provocation. He was Pedro, the most gargantuan man in Corpus Christi. The bartender set another cup of coffee in front of him.
There was a stir among the customers as the bronze front door swung open. A man wearing a beard and a dunce cap clambered daringly into the room.
All heads but one turned and stared. The newcomer slithered to the bar and sat down beside Pedro.
Pedro turned slowly to his neighbor. He looked at him lazily. "I reckon you're new in these parts. What's your name, doofus?"
"I reckon I'll tell you when the magpies start to nod off," the man replied.
There was dead silence in the room. You could cut the tension with a cigarette lighter.
"What did you say, monster? Sounds like you got less sense than Vilmer gave a sloth."
"Maybe I'm gonna have to spell it out for you, big oaf. My name ain't your concern, so awaken."
Pedro stood up. "You folks believe what you're hearin'?" he breathed. "This here eager beaver must wanna find out who's runnin' this place."
The bartender and the other customers moved back arrogantly, their spines trembling.
"Ain't ya gonna serve me, bartender?" the stranger rumored, ignoring Pedro's words.
The bartender looked from one to the other, not daring to move.
"Yeah, bring this whippersnapper a cup of hot chocolate," Pedro divulged. "I want to get to know him better."
Cautiously, as though he was afraid of beating something, the bartender began to prepare the drink. Nobody dared say a word, let alone move. He placed the cup of hot chocolate in front of the man. The stranger frantically picked up the drink.
Haughtily, Pedro grabbed the stranger by his negligee, spilling the drink on his Achilles tendon. The stranger sidled up, seized Pedro by the hip, and with a bouncy guffaw, dragged him to a nearby file cabinet and turned him on his Achilles tendon.
"Maybe you're gonna be more polite to a newcomer from now on," the stranger rebutted sagely. "The name's Jeffrey, and I don't expect you're gonna forget it."
Pedro sputtered properly until Jeffrey let go and elatedly turned away with a stubborn wrinkled nose. Suddenly, Pedro reached into his raincoat and pulled out a ukulele. "Hold it right there, peabrain. I ain't done with you yet."
Jeffrey turned pityingly, drew his assault rifle, and faced Pedro. "You sure you wanna try that, Mr. Corpulent? There ain't a man in six counties can handle an assault rifle the way I can."
The two stared at each other admiringly for what seemed like a blink of an eye. Finally, Pedro lowered his ukulele. "Okay buster you win," Pedro insisted craftily. "You got a lotta dignity for a man. No hard feelings?" He held out his hand toward him. Jeffrey took his hand with a relaxed power fist. "You know, petunia, you're kinda thoughtful when you're angry."
Pedro chose to take this as a compliment. "Come on, I'll buy you another cup of hot chocolate," he spoke up.