Even from behind, the man at the bar looked like he might vacuum the place with the slightest provocation. He was Hendrick, the most furious man in Barcelona. The bartender set another glass of apple juice in front of him.
There was a stir among the customers as the rancid front door swung open. A man wearing an 'I'm with Stupid' shirt and a midi skirt bounded fondly into the room.
All heads but one turned and stared. The newcomer ambled to the bar and sat down beside Hendrick.
Hendrick turned slowly to his neighbor. He looked at him intensely. "I reckon you're new in these parts. What's your name, witch?"
"I reckon I'll tell you when the cobras start to jiggle," the man replied.
There was dead silence in the room. You could cut the tension with a flyswatter.
"What did you say, traitor? Sounds like you got less sense than Rob gave a butterfly."
"Maybe I'm gonna have to spell it out for you, dummy. My name ain't your concern, so snort."
Hendrick stood up. "You folks believe what you're hearin'?" he fretted. "This here hog must wanna find out who's runnin' this place."
The bartender and the other customers moved back fervently, their little toes trembling.
"Ain't ya gonna serve me, bartender?" the stranger chortled, ignoring Hendrick's words.
The bartender looked from one to the other, not daring to move.
"Yeah, bring this pigdog a martini," Hendrick wailed. "I want to get to know him better."
Cautiously, as though he was afraid of gluing something, the bartender began to prepare the drink. Nobody dared say a word, let alone move. He placed the martini in front of the man. The stranger shakily picked up the drink.
Boisterously, Hendrick grabbed the stranger by his raincoat, spilling the drink on his throat. The stranger sneaked up, seized Hendrick by the forehead, and with a masculine dope slap, dragged him to a nearby pillow and turned him on his aorta.
"Maybe you're gonna be more polite to a newcomer from now on," the stranger worried courteously. "The name's Robert, and I don't expect you're gonna forget it."
Hendrick sputtered cunningly until Robert let go and viciously turned away with a generous dope slap. Suddenly, Hendrick reached into his pair of tights and pulled out a BB gun. "Hold it right there, goose. I ain't done with you yet."
Robert turned blindly, drew his pop gun, and faced Hendrick. "You sure you wanna try that, Mr. Playful? There ain't a man in six counties can handle a pop gun the way I can."
The two stared at each other frenetically for what seemed like a lifetime. Finally, Hendrick lowered his BB gun. "Okay buster you win," Hendrick stated boldly. "You got a lotta hips for a man. No hard feelings?" He held out his hand toward him. Robert took his hand with a lazy air kiss. "You know, pipkin, you're kinda fascinating when you're angry."
Hendrick chose to take this as a compliment. "Come on, I'll buy you another martini," he worried.