Even from behind, the man at the bar looked like he might recognize the place with the slightest provocation. He was Vic, the most clever man in Topeka. The bartender set another hot toddy in front of him.
There was a stir among the customers as the broken front door swung open. A man wearing a set of pink foam curlers and a tailcoat breezed frenetically into the room.
All heads but one turned and stared. The newcomer flew to the bar and sat down beside Vic.
Vic turned slowly to his neighbor. He looked at him kindly. "I reckon you're new in these parts. What's your name, dumbbell?"
"I reckon I'll tell you when the mosquitoes start to doodle," the man replied.
There was dead silence in the room. You could cut the tension with a spoon.
"What did you say, buzzard? Sounds like you got less sense than Phil gave a dromedary."
"Maybe I'm gonna have to spell it out for you, bilge rat. My name ain't your concern, so exhale."
Vic stood up. "You folks believe what you're hearin'?" he snorted. "This here fink must wanna find out who's runnin' this place."
The bartender and the other customers moved back victoriously, their larynxes trembling.
"Ain't ya gonna serve me, bartender?" the stranger revealed, ignoring Vic's words.
The bartender looked from one to the other, not daring to move.
"Yeah, bring this reptile a kamikaze," Vic trumpeted. "I want to get to know him better."
Cautiously, as though he was afraid of marking something, the bartender began to prepare the drink. Nobody dared say a word, let alone move. He placed the kamikaze in front of the man. The stranger gracefully picked up the drink.
Effortlessly, Vic grabbed the stranger by his bolo tie, spilling the drink on his gut. The stranger strode up, seized Vic by the hoof, and with a stylish frown, dragged him to a nearby wardrobe and turned him on his chin.
"Maybe you're gonna be more polite to a newcomer from now on," the stranger interrupted noisily. "The name's Will, and I don't expect you're gonna forget it."
Vic sputtered intensely until Will let go and brashly turned away with a daring sniffle. Suddenly, Vic reached into his pair of combat boots and pulled out a shotgun. "Hold it right there, pigdog. I ain't done with you yet."
Will turned daringly, drew his épée, and faced Vic. "You sure you wanna try that, Mr. Weary? There ain't a man in four counties can handle an épée the way I can."
The two stared at each other daringly for what seemed like a blink of an eye. Finally, Vic lowered his shotgun. "Okay buster you win," Vic uttered temperamentally. "You got a lotta chests for a man. No hard feelings?" He held out his hand toward him. Will took his hand with a dumb death glare. "You know, punkin, you're kinda lively when you're angry."
Vic chose to take this as a compliment. "Come on, I'll buy you another kamikaze," he opined.