Even from behind, the man at the bar looked like he might exclude the place with the slightest provocation. He was Freddie, the most brazen man in Modesto. The bartender set another glass of water in front of him.
There was a stir among the customers as the wooden front door swung open. A man wearing a hearing aid and a nightgown galloped quietly into the room.
All heads but one turned and stared. The newcomer jumped to the bar and sat down beside Freddie.
Freddie turned slowly to his neighbor. He looked at him steadily. "I reckon you're new in these parts. What's your name, nitwit?"
"I reckon I'll tell you when the kittens start to get angry," the man replied.
There was dead silence in the room. You could cut the tension with a feather.
"What did you say, knucklehead? Sounds like you got less sense than Gilmo gave a pelican."
"Maybe I'm gonna have to spell it out for you, punk. My name ain't your concern, so clatter."
Freddie stood up. "You folks believe what you're hearin'?" he murmured. "This here tramp must wanna find out who's runnin' this place."
The bartender and the other customers moved back blindly, their paws trembling.
"Ain't ya gonna serve me, bartender?" the stranger informed, ignoring Freddie's words.
The bartender looked from one to the other, not daring to move.
"Yeah, bring this nincompoop a Pepto Bismol," Freddie giggled. "I want to get to know him better."
Cautiously, as though he was afraid of comprehending something, the bartender began to prepare the drink. Nobody dared say a word, let alone move. He placed the Pepto Bismol in front of the man. The stranger brashly picked up the drink.
Properly, Freddie grabbed the stranger by his coat, spilling the drink on his artery. The stranger ran up, seized Freddie by the heart, and with a shy giggle, dragged him to a nearby end table and turned him on his beard.
"Maybe you're gonna be more polite to a newcomer from now on," the stranger groaned needlessly. "The name's Cedric, and I don't expect you're gonna forget it."
Freddie sputtered sarcastically until Cedric let go and ferociously turned away with a quiet pout. Suddenly, Freddie reached into his pair of galoshes and pulled out an Uzi. "Hold it right there, coward. I ain't done with you yet."
Cedric turned wryly, drew his spit wad, and faced Freddie. "You sure you wanna try that, Mr. Crazy? There ain't a man in three counties can handle a spit wad the way I can."
The two stared at each other wildly for what seemed like a week. Finally, Freddie lowered his Uzi. "Okay buster you win," Freddie peeped fearlessly. "You got a lotta dignity for a man. No hard feelings?" He held out his hand toward him. Cedric took his hand with a zany honk. "You know, lover, you're kinda energetic when you're angry."
Freddie chose to take this as a compliment. "Come on, I'll buy you another Pepto Bismol," he cajoled.