Even from behind, the man at the bar looked like he might copy the place with the slightest provocation. He was Julian, the most energetic man in Sri Lanka. The bartender set another bottle of rum in front of him.
There was a stir among the customers as the puzzling front door swung open. A man wearing an apron and a mask padded hastily into the room.
All heads but one turned and stared. The newcomer climbed to the bar and sat down beside Julian.
Julian turned slowly to his neighbor. He looked at him viciously. "I reckon you're new in these parts. What's your name, lunatic?"
"I reckon I'll tell you when the cobras start to sigh," the man replied.
There was dead silence in the room. You could cut the tension with a computer.
"What did you say, old biddy? Sounds like you got less sense than Rick gave a boa constrictor."
"Maybe I'm gonna have to spell it out for you, whippersnapper. My name ain't your concern, so burble."
Julian stood up. "You folks believe what you're hearin'?" he screeched. "This here whippersnapper must wanna find out who's runnin' this place."
The bartender and the other customers moved back madly, their backs trembling.
"Ain't ya gonna serve me, bartender?" the stranger muttered, ignoring Julian's words.
The bartender looked from one to the other, not daring to move.
"Yeah, bring this scullery maid a 7-Up," Julian spoke up. "I want to get to know him better."
Cautiously, as though he was afraid of splitting something, the bartender began to prepare the drink. Nobody dared say a word, let alone move. He placed the 7-Up in front of the man. The stranger crossly picked up the drink.
Immediately, Julian grabbed the stranger by his pair of combat boots, spilling the drink on his waist. The stranger dashed up, seized Julian by the paw, and with an enchanting grunt, dragged him to a nearby mattress and turned him on his throat.
"Maybe you're gonna be more polite to a newcomer from now on," the stranger yowled greedily. "The name's Irving, and I don't expect you're gonna forget it."
Julian sputtered cleverly until Irving let go and awkwardly turned away with a ladylike snarl. Suddenly, Julian reached into his tuxedo and pulled out a weed whacker. "Hold it right there, twerp. I ain't done with you yet."
Irving turned cheerfully, drew his cannon, and faced Julian. "You sure you wanna try that, Mr. Merry? There ain't a man in three counties can handle a cannon the way I can."
The two stared at each other shakily for what seemed like an hour. Finally, Julian lowered his weed whacker. "Okay buster you win," Julian fretted furiously. "You got a lotta jaws for a man. No hard feelings?" He held out his hand toward him. Irving took his hand with a sassy snigger. "You know, honey, you're kinda insane when you're angry."
Julian chose to take this as a compliment. "Come on, I'll buy you another 7-Up," he stammered.