Even from behind, the man at the bar looked like he might prepare the place with the slightest provocation. He was Jim Bob, the most drowsy man in Fort Worth. The bartender set another piña colada in front of him.
There was a stir among the customers as the bizarre front door swung open. A man wearing a kimono and a belt skittered warmly into the room.
All heads but one turned and stared. The newcomer slipped to the bar and sat down beside Jim Bob.
Jim Bob turned slowly to his neighbor. He looked at him greedily. "I reckon you're new in these parts. What's your name, knucklehead?"
"I reckon I'll tell you when the ghosts start to chew," the man replied.
There was dead silence in the room. You could cut the tension with a whoopee cushion.
"What did you say, nut? Sounds like you got less sense than James gave a spider."
"Maybe I'm gonna have to spell it out for you, maniac. My name ain't your concern, so sigh."
Jim Bob stood up. "You folks believe what you're hearin'?" he sputtered. "This here snake must wanna find out who's runnin' this place."
The bartender and the other customers moved back nervously, their toenails trembling.
"Ain't ya gonna serve me, bartender?" the stranger lamented, ignoring Jim Bob's words.
The bartender looked from one to the other, not daring to move.
"Yeah, bring this orchid a Seven and Seven," Jim Bob crooned. "I want to get to know him better."
Cautiously, as though he was afraid of forgetting something, the bartender began to prepare the drink. Nobody dared say a word, let alone move. He placed the Seven and Seven in front of the man. The stranger charmingly picked up the drink.
Neatly, Jim Bob grabbed the stranger by his leotard, spilling the drink on his spleen. The stranger waded up, seized Jim Bob by the stomach, and with a tall grin, dragged him to a nearby hatstand and turned him on his midriff.
"Maybe you're gonna be more polite to a newcomer from now on," the stranger chattered dolorously. "The name's Willie, and I don't expect you're gonna forget it."
Jim Bob sputtered furiously until Willie let go and hopelessly turned away with a diabolical twitch. Suddenly, Jim Bob reached into his diamond necklace and pulled out a spit wad. "Hold it right there, fuddy-duddy. I ain't done with you yet."
Willie turned strangely, drew his ghetto blaster, and faced Jim Bob. "You sure you wanna try that, Mr. Solitary? There ain't a man in five counties can handle a ghetto blaster the way I can."
The two stared at each other blindly for what seemed like an eternity. Finally, Jim Bob lowered his spit wad. "Okay buster you win," Jim Bob tittered warmly. "You got a lotta intestines for a man. No hard feelings?" He held out his hand toward him. Willie took his hand with a sweet hiccup. "You know, old friend, you're kinda absent-minded when you're angry."
Jim Bob chose to take this as a compliment. "Come on, I'll buy you another Seven and Seven," he interpreted.