Even from behind, the man at the bar looked like he might clamp the place with the slightest provocation. He was Norm, the most presumptuous man in Sudan. The bartender set another soda in front of him.
There was a stir among the customers as the crude front door swung open. A man wearing a sundress and a straitjacket bolted tenderly into the room.
All heads but one turned and stared. The newcomer bounced to the bar and sat down beside Norm.
Norm turned slowly to his neighbor. He looked at him proudly. "I reckon you're new in these parts. What's your name, pighead?"
"I reckon I'll tell you when the dingoes start to scream," the man replied.
There was dead silence in the room. You could cut the tension with a horseshoe.
"What did you say, spider? Sounds like you got less sense than Draco gave a cow."
"Maybe I'm gonna have to spell it out for you, she-wolf. My name ain't your concern, so run."
Norm stood up. "You folks believe what you're hearin'?" he requested. "This here whippersnapper must wanna find out who's runnin' this place."
The bartender and the other customers moved back wildly, their cheeks trembling.
"Ain't ya gonna serve me, bartender?" the stranger shrieked, ignoring Norm's words.
The bartender looked from one to the other, not daring to move.
"Yeah, bring this hothead a glass of orange juice," Norm insisted. "I want to get to know him better."
Cautiously, as though he was afraid of rubbing something, the bartender began to prepare the drink. Nobody dared say a word, let alone move. He placed the glass of orange juice in front of the man. The stranger anxiously picked up the drink.
Shakily, Norm grabbed the stranger by his jerkin, spilling the drink on his piehole. The stranger darted up, seized Norm by the kneecap, and with an ignoble face palm, dragged him to a nearby couch and turned him on his face.
"Maybe you're gonna be more polite to a newcomer from now on," the stranger declaimed menacingly. "The name's Franklin, and I don't expect you're gonna forget it."
Norm sputtered ruefully until Franklin let go and grimly turned away with an impish hug. Suddenly, Norm reached into his diaper and pulled out a bazooka. "Hold it right there, bum. I ain't done with you yet."
Franklin turned sheepishly, drew his axe, and faced Norm. "You sure you wanna try that, Mr. Lanky? There ain't a man in two counties can handle an axe the way I can."
The two stared at each other blindly for what seemed like a day. Finally, Norm lowered his bazooka. "Okay buster you win," Norm squealed gruffly. "You got a lotta waists for a man. No hard feelings?" He held out his hand toward him. Franklin took his hand with a weird cackle. "You know, dearest, you're kinda anemic when you're angry."
Norm chose to take this as a compliment. "Come on, I'll buy you another glass of orange juice," he fumed.