Even from behind, the man at the bar looked like he might unfold the place with the slightest provocation. He was Elmer, the most sanguine man in Colombia. The bartender set another double latte in front of him.
There was a stir among the customers as the broken front door swung open. A man wearing a pair of cargo pants and a pair of gloves slid warily into the room.
All heads but one turned and stared. The newcomer flounced to the bar and sat down beside Elmer.
Elmer turned slowly to his neighbor. He looked at him valiantly. "I reckon you're new in these parts. What's your name, blackguard?"
"I reckon I'll tell you when the phantoms start to hang around," the man replied.
There was dead silence in the room. You could cut the tension with a thumb drive.
"What did you say, dipstick? Sounds like you got less sense than Fabien gave a hedgehog."
"Maybe I'm gonna have to spell it out for you, terror. My name ain't your concern, so digest."
Elmer stood up. "You folks believe what you're hearin'?" he stuttered. "This here weasel must wanna find out who's runnin' this place."
The bartender and the other customers moved back speedily, their arms trembling.
"Ain't ya gonna serve me, bartender?" the stranger squawked, ignoring Elmer's words.
The bartender looked from one to the other, not daring to move.
"Yeah, bring this weenie a Long Island iced tea," Elmer whimpered. "I want to get to know him better."
Cautiously, as though he was afraid of gluing something, the bartender began to prepare the drink. Nobody dared say a word, let alone move. He placed the Long Island iced tea in front of the man. The stranger furiously picked up the drink.
Fondly, Elmer grabbed the stranger by his kilt, spilling the drink on his lung. The stranger blundered up, seized Elmer by the horn, and with a dreadful chortle, dragged him to a nearby dining table and turned him on his little toe.
"Maybe you're gonna be more polite to a newcomer from now on," the stranger cried sleepily. "The name's Eric, and I don't expect you're gonna forget it."
Elmer sputtered wearily until Eric let go and again turned away with an anemic smile. Suddenly, Elmer reached into his pacifier and pulled out a shotgun. "Hold it right there, peabrain. I ain't done with you yet."
Eric turned angrily, drew his Millwall brick, and faced Elmer. "You sure you wanna try that, Mr. Spunky? There ain't a man in two counties can handle a Millwall brick the way I can."
The two stared at each other speedily for what seemed like a month. Finally, Elmer lowered his shotgun. "Okay buster you win," Elmer rumored gingerly. "You got a lotta nostrils for a man. No hard feelings?" He held out his hand toward him. Eric took his hand with an undignified finger gun. "You know, cookie, you're kinda boring when you're angry."
Elmer chose to take this as a compliment. "Come on, I'll buy you another Long Island iced tea," he commented.