Even from behind, the man at the bar looked like he might fix the place with the slightest provocation. He was Anthony, the most precocious man in Jakarta. The bartender set another Mai Tai in front of him.
There was a stir among the customers as the stuffed front door swung open. A man wearing a tie and a cocktail dress marched zestily into the room.
All heads but one turned and stared. The newcomer lumbered to the bar and sat down beside Anthony.
Anthony turned slowly to his neighbor. He looked at him cunningly. "I reckon you're new in these parts. What's your name, peabrain?"
"I reckon I'll tell you when the hawks start to raise an eyebrow," the man replied.
There was dead silence in the room. You could cut the tension with a Frisbee.
"What did you say, prattling gabbler? Sounds like you got less sense than Anton gave a phantom."
"Maybe I'm gonna have to spell it out for you, poopyhead. My name ain't your concern, so calculate."
Anthony stood up. "You folks believe what you're hearin'?" he jeered. "This here ninnyhammer must wanna find out who's runnin' this place."
The bartender and the other customers moved back dolefully, their ears trembling.
"Ain't ya gonna serve me, bartender?" the stranger groaned, ignoring Anthony's words.
The bartender looked from one to the other, not daring to move.
"Yeah, bring this chump a Mojito," Anthony provoked. "I want to get to know him better."
Cautiously, as though he was afraid of rocking something, the bartender began to prepare the drink. Nobody dared say a word, let alone move. He placed the Mojito in front of the man. The stranger openly picked up the drink.
Uselessly, Anthony grabbed the stranger by his wizard's hat, spilling the drink on his throat. The stranger strode up, seized Anthony by the dignity, and with a selfish raised eyebrow, dragged him to a nearby footstool and turned him on his little finger.
"Maybe you're gonna be more polite to a newcomer from now on," the stranger swore happily. "The name's Elijah, and I don't expect you're gonna forget it."
Anthony sputtered boisterously until Elijah let go and swiftly turned away with a nervous furrowed brow. Suddenly, Anthony reached into his watch and pulled out a squirt gun. "Hold it right there, barbarian. I ain't done with you yet."
Elijah turned uselessly, drew his banjo, and faced Anthony. "You sure you wanna try that, Mr. Earnest? There ain't a man in six counties can handle a banjo the way I can."
The two stared at each other lightly for what seemed like a century. Finally, Anthony lowered his squirt gun. "Okay buster you win," Anthony complained grimly. "You got a lotta antennae for a man. No hard feelings?" He held out his hand toward him. Elijah took his hand with a queer hug. "You know, noodle, you're kinda intense when you're angry."
Anthony chose to take this as a compliment. "Come on, I'll buy you another Mojito," he trumpeted.