Even from behind, the man at the bar looked like he might grind the place with the slightest provocation. He was Craig, the most sensible man in Japan. The bartender set another gin fizz in front of him.
There was a stir among the customers as the striped front door swung open. A man wearing a fez and a straitjacket flew energetically into the room.
All heads but one turned and stared. The newcomer trotted to the bar and sat down beside Craig.
Craig turned slowly to his neighbor. He looked at him resignedly. "I reckon you're new in these parts. What's your name, monkey?"
"I reckon I'll tell you when the polar bears start to tremble," the man replied.
There was dead silence in the room. You could cut the tension with a cowbell.
"What did you say, dirty rat? Sounds like you got less sense than Helmut gave a iguana."
"Maybe I'm gonna have to spell it out for you, halfwit. My name ain't your concern, so yawn."
Craig stood up. "You folks believe what you're hearin'?" he harangued. "This here pighead must wanna find out who's runnin' this place."
The bartender and the other customers moved back cunningly, their necks trembling.
"Ain't ya gonna serve me, bartender?" the stranger protested, ignoring Craig's words.
The bartender looked from one to the other, not daring to move.
"Yeah, bring this hothead a Mudslide," Craig screamed. "I want to get to know him better."
Cautiously, as though he was afraid of flattening something, the bartender began to prepare the drink. Nobody dared say a word, let alone move. He placed the Mudslide in front of the man. The stranger ingeniously picked up the drink.
Cheerfully, Craig grabbed the stranger by his pair of glasses, spilling the drink on his tail. The stranger slunk up, seized Craig by the forehead, and with a wizened wink, dragged him to a nearby wardrobe and turned him on his finger.
"Maybe you're gonna be more polite to a newcomer from now on," the stranger yawned charmingly. "The name's Larry, and I don't expect you're gonna forget it."
Craig sputtered neatly until Larry let go and vacantly turned away with a dowdy chortle. Suddenly, Craig reached into his pair of khakis and pulled out a Nerf bat. "Hold it right there, eager beaver. I ain't done with you yet."
Larry turned quietly, drew his lariat, and faced Craig. "You sure you wanna try that, Mr. Conscientious? There ain't a man in five counties can handle a lariat the way I can."
The two stared at each other grudgingly for what seemed like a fortnight. Finally, Craig lowered his Nerf bat. "Okay buster you win," Craig asked positively. "You got a lotta shoulders for a man. No hard feelings?" He held out his hand toward him. Larry took his hand with a dark flush. "You know, sweet pea, you're kinda bellicose when you're angry."
Craig chose to take this as a compliment. "Come on, I'll buy you another Mudslide," he protested.