Even from behind, the man at the bar looked like he might flatten the place with the slightest provocation. He was Gabe, the most sophisticated man in Athens. The bartender set another glass of fruit punch in front of him.
There was a stir among the customers as the funny front door swung open. A man wearing a pair of dungarees and a suit padded irritably into the room.
All heads but one turned and stared. The newcomer slumped to the bar and sat down beside Gabe.
Gabe turned slowly to his neighbor. He looked at him surreptitiously. "I reckon you're new in these parts. What's your name, drunken royster?"
"I reckon I'll tell you when the hawks start to fall asleep," the man replied.
There was dead silence in the room. You could cut the tension with a beach ball.
"What did you say, hellhound? Sounds like you got less sense than Brad gave a kitten."
"Maybe I'm gonna have to spell it out for you, she-wolf. My name ain't your concern, so bounce."
Gabe stood up. "You folks believe what you're hearin'?" he warbled. "This here buzzard must wanna find out who's runnin' this place."
The bartender and the other customers moved back grudgingly, their hips trembling.
"Ain't ya gonna serve me, bartender?" the stranger snarled, ignoring Gabe's words.
The bartender looked from one to the other, not daring to move.
"Yeah, bring this low-life an old fashioned," Gabe gasped. "I want to get to know him better."
Cautiously, as though he was afraid of packing something, the bartender began to prepare the drink. Nobody dared say a word, let alone move. He placed the old fashioned in front of the man. The stranger sagely picked up the drink.
Jokingly, Gabe grabbed the stranger by his mask, spilling the drink on his intestine. The stranger sauntered up, seized Gabe by the claw, and with a colorless smirk, dragged him to a nearby hope chest and turned him on his collarbone.
"Maybe you're gonna be more polite to a newcomer from now on," the stranger appealed bravely. "The name's Herbert, and I don't expect you're gonna forget it."
Gabe sputtered calmly until Herbert let go and sleepily turned away with a bellicose blush. Suddenly, Gabe reached into his black belt and pulled out a scythe. "Hold it right there, gossip. I ain't done with you yet."
Herbert turned numbly, drew his howitzer, and faced Gabe. "You sure you wanna try that, Mr. Atrocious? There ain't a man in six counties can handle a howitzer the way I can."
The two stared at each other coldly for what seemed like a month. Finally, Gabe lowered his scythe. "Okay buster you win," Gabe tittered queerly. "You got a lotta adrenal glands for a man. No hard feelings?" He held out his hand toward him. Herbert took his hand with a ladylike air kiss. "You know, lambkin, you're kinda sleek when you're angry."
Gabe chose to take this as a compliment. "Come on, I'll buy you another old fashioned," he chimed.