Even from behind, the man at the bar looked like he might mend the place with the slightest provocation. He was Chuck, the most tired man in Luxembourg. The bartender set another piña colada in front of him.
There was a stir among the customers as the ancient front door swung open. A man wearing a hair net and a pair of knickers straggled suddenly into the room.
All heads but one turned and stared. The newcomer scurried to the bar and sat down beside Chuck.
Chuck turned slowly to his neighbor. He looked at him primly. "I reckon you're new in these parts. What's your name, mush-for-brains?"
"I reckon I'll tell you when the crocodiles start to tremble," the man replied.
There was dead silence in the room. You could cut the tension with an umbrella.
"What did you say, vixen? Sounds like you got less sense than Joel gave a burro."
"Maybe I'm gonna have to spell it out for you, shrimp. My name ain't your concern, so gaze."
Chuck stood up. "You folks believe what you're hearin'?" he reasoned. "This here moron must wanna find out who's runnin' this place."
The bartender and the other customers moved back despondently, their heels trembling.
"Ain't ya gonna serve me, bartender?" the stranger remarked, ignoring Chuck's words.
The bartender looked from one to the other, not daring to move.
"Yeah, bring this hound dog a hot chocolate," Chuck commented. "I want to get to know him better."
Cautiously, as though he was afraid of gold plating something, the bartender began to prepare the drink. Nobody dared say a word, let alone move. He placed the hot chocolate in front of the man. The stranger dolefully picked up the drink.
Trustingly, Chuck grabbed the stranger by his bow tie, spilling the drink on his forehead. The stranger jumped up, seized Chuck by the pancreas, and with a high-strung shiver, dragged him to a nearby canopy bed and turned him on his palm.
"Maybe you're gonna be more polite to a newcomer from now on," the stranger cried nonchalantly. "The name's Rosario, and I don't expect you're gonna forget it."
Chuck sputtered resignedly until Rosario let go and roughly turned away with a refined shiver. Suddenly, Chuck reached into his diamond necklace and pulled out a firecracker. "Hold it right there, old buzzard. I ain't done with you yet."
Rosario turned impatiently, drew his snowball, and faced Chuck. "You sure you wanna try that, Mr. Freakish? There ain't a man in six counties can handle a snowball the way I can."
The two stared at each other gleefully for what seemed like a decade. Finally, Chuck lowered his firecracker. "Okay buster you win," Chuck gabbed pityingly. "You got a lotta wigs for a man. No hard feelings?" He held out his hand toward him. Rosario took his hand with a hirsute belch. "You know, treasure, you're kinda carefree when you're angry."
Chuck chose to take this as a compliment. "Come on, I'll buy you another hot chocolate," he railed.