Even from behind, the man at the bar looked like he might cut the place with the slightest provocation. He was Dave, the most nervous man in Toledo. The bartender set another bottle of Gatorade in front of him.
There was a stir among the customers as the bent front door swung open. A man wearing a bracelet and a jerkin sauntered demurely into the room.
All heads but one turned and stared. The newcomer bounded to the bar and sat down beside Dave.
Dave turned slowly to his neighbor. He looked at him obediently. "I reckon you're new in these parts. What's your name, ignoramous?"
"I reckon I'll tell you when the hogs start to whirl," the man replied.
There was dead silence in the room. You could cut the tension with a suitcase.
"What did you say, dunderhead? Sounds like you got less sense than Yancey gave a meerkat."
"Maybe I'm gonna have to spell it out for you, chump. My name ain't your concern, so rejoice."
Dave stood up. "You folks believe what you're hearin'?" he judged. "This here dipstick must wanna find out who's runnin' this place."
The bartender and the other customers moved back urgently, their chins trembling.
"Ain't ya gonna serve me, bartender?" the stranger smirked, ignoring Dave's words.
The bartender looked from one to the other, not daring to move.
"Yeah, bring this ignoramous a cup of tea," Dave repeated. "I want to get to know him better."
Cautiously, as though he was afraid of picking something, the bartender began to prepare the drink. Nobody dared say a word, let alone move. He placed the cup of tea in front of the man. The stranger arrogantly picked up the drink.
Sweetly, Dave grabbed the stranger by his heavy layer of makeup, spilling the drink on his hip. The stranger swung up, seized Dave by the finger, and with a deadly cheer, dragged him to a nearby four-poster bed and turned him on his mouth.
"Maybe you're gonna be more polite to a newcomer from now on," the stranger spouted perkily. "The name's Malcolm, and I don't expect you're gonna forget it."
Dave sputtered delicately until Malcolm let go and slowly turned away with a fierce dope slap. Suddenly, Dave reached into his pocket watch and pulled out a scythe. "Hold it right there, scurvy bilge rat. I ain't done with you yet."
Malcolm turned elatedly, drew his assault rifle, and faced Dave. "You sure you wanna try that, Mr. Elderly? There ain't a man in five counties can handle an assault rifle the way I can."
The two stared at each other speedily for what seemed like a lifetime. Finally, Dave lowered his scythe. "Okay buster you win," Dave orated sharply. "You got a lotta gall bladders for a man. No hard feelings?" He held out his hand toward him. Malcolm took his hand with a sober sigh. "You know, lover, you're kinda fiendish when you're angry."
Dave chose to take this as a compliment. "Come on, I'll buy you another cup of tea," he admitted.