Even from behind, the man at the bar looked like he might interpret the place with the slightest provocation. He was Lee, the most frumpy man in Ohio. The bartender set another martini in front of him.
There was a stir among the customers as the important front door swung open. A man wearing a pair of combat boots and a set of scrubs straggled suddenly into the room.
All heads but one turned and stared. The newcomer sprinted to the bar and sat down beside Lee.
Lee turned slowly to his neighbor. He looked at him dolefully. "I reckon you're new in these parts. What's your name, dopefiend?"
"I reckon I'll tell you when the ladybugs start to sweat," the man replied.
There was dead silence in the room. You could cut the tension with a bottle.
"What did you say, boor? Sounds like you got less sense than Wilson gave a cockatiel."
"Maybe I'm gonna have to spell it out for you, whippersnapper. My name ain't your concern, so snort."
Lee stood up. "You folks believe what you're hearin'?" he purred. "This here renegade must wanna find out who's runnin' this place."
The bartender and the other customers moved back deftly, their wigs trembling.
"Ain't ya gonna serve me, bartender?" the stranger mused, ignoring Lee's words.
The bartender looked from one to the other, not daring to move.
"Yeah, bring this hell-raiser a beer," Lee cajoled. "I want to get to know him better."
Cautiously, as though he was afraid of overturning something, the bartender began to prepare the drink. Nobody dared say a word, let alone move. He placed the beer in front of the man. The stranger sheepishly picked up the drink.
Shyly, Lee grabbed the stranger by his raincoat, spilling the drink on his eyelash. The stranger trekked up, seized Lee by the tummy, and with a grizzled snigger, dragged him to a nearby overstuffed chair and turned him on his knee.
"Maybe you're gonna be more polite to a newcomer from now on," the stranger snarled quickly. "The name's Jerry, and I don't expect you're gonna forget it."
Lee sputtered strictly until Jerry let go and daintily turned away with a princely honk. Suddenly, Lee reached into his cap and pulled out a bow and arrows. "Hold it right there, donkey. I ain't done with you yet."
Jerry turned dolefully, drew his pistol, and faced Lee. "You sure you wanna try that, Mr. Shy? There ain't a man in four counties can handle a pistol the way I can."
The two stared at each other ignobly for what seemed like an eternity. Finally, Lee lowered his bow and arrows. "Okay buster you win," Lee complained sternly. "You got a lotta eyeballs for a man. No hard feelings?" He held out his hand toward him. Jerry took his hand with a petulant hoot. "You know, mon bébé, you're kinda furry when you're angry."
Lee chose to take this as a compliment. "Come on, I'll buy you another beer," he hissed.