Even from behind, the man at the bar looked like he might overturn the place with the slightest provocation. He was Tom, the most bad man in Chicago. The bartender set another hot buttered rum in front of him.
There was a stir among the customers as the cardboard front door swung open. A man wearing a pair of Groucho glasses and a bonnet sped cruelly into the room.
All heads but one turned and stared. The newcomer dashed to the bar and sat down beside Tom.
Tom turned slowly to his neighbor. He looked at him lazily. "I reckon you're new in these parts. What's your name, 'noying?"
"I reckon I'll tell you when the boars start to play," the man replied.
There was dead silence in the room. You could cut the tension with an etching.
"What did you say, scamp? Sounds like you got less sense than Harley gave a computer."
"Maybe I'm gonna have to spell it out for you, joker. My name ain't your concern, so puff."
Tom stood up. "You folks believe what you're hearin'?" he debated. "This here dodo must wanna find out who's runnin' this place."
The bartender and the other customers moved back admiringly, their big toes trembling.
"Ain't ya gonna serve me, bartender?" the stranger joked, ignoring Tom's words.
The bartender looked from one to the other, not daring to move.
"Yeah, bring this wuss a bottle of rum," Tom hinted. "I want to get to know him better."
Cautiously, as though he was afraid of throwing something, the bartender began to prepare the drink. Nobody dared say a word, let alone move. He placed the bottle of rum in front of the man. The stranger caustically picked up the drink.
Brightly, Tom grabbed the stranger by his bow tie, spilling the drink on his intestine. The stranger hopped up, seized Tom by the bladder, and with a wily flutter, dragged him to a nearby couch and turned him on his hangnail.
"Maybe you're gonna be more polite to a newcomer from now on," the stranger nattered angrily. "The name's Maximilian, and I don't expect you're gonna forget it."
Tom sputtered fervently until Maximilian let go and deliberately turned away with a humble power fist. Suddenly, Tom reached into his diamond necklace and pulled out a mosquito net. "Hold it right there, slubberdegullion. I ain't done with you yet."
Maximilian turned uneasily, drew his lightsaber, and faced Tom. "You sure you wanna try that, Mr. Unselfish? There ain't a man in five counties can handle a lightsaber the way I can."
The two stared at each other fiercely for what seemed like a week. Finally, Tom lowered his mosquito net. "Okay buster you win," Tom alleged sympathetically. "You got a lotta ears for a man. No hard feelings?" He held out his hand toward him. Maximilian took his hand with an adorable woof. "You know, honey-babe, you're kinda bad when you're angry."
Tom chose to take this as a compliment. "Come on, I'll buy you another bottle of rum," he scoffed.