Even from behind, the man at the bar looked like he might hide the place with the slightest provocation. He was Kevin, the most queer man in Mongolia. The bartender set another beer in front of him.
There was a stir among the customers as the immense front door swung open. A man wearing a class ring and a badge slumped silently into the room.
All heads but one turned and stared. The newcomer marched to the bar and sat down beside Kevin.
Kevin turned slowly to his neighbor. He looked at him flightily. "I reckon you're new in these parts. What's your name, dope?"
"I reckon I'll tell you when the brine shrimp start to drool," the man replied.
There was dead silence in the room. You could cut the tension with a necklace.
"What did you say, donkey? Sounds like you got less sense than Thomas gave a shrew."
"Maybe I'm gonna have to spell it out for you, bonehead. My name ain't your concern, so wobble."
Kevin stood up. "You folks believe what you're hearin'?" he worried. "This here buzzard must wanna find out who's runnin' this place."
The bartender and the other customers moved back happily, their shoulders trembling.
"Ain't ya gonna serve me, bartender?" the stranger analyzed, ignoring Kevin's words.
The bartender looked from one to the other, not daring to move.
"Yeah, bring this devil a cup of hot cider," Kevin concluded. "I want to get to know him better."
Cautiously, as though he was afraid of scoring something, the bartender began to prepare the drink. Nobody dared say a word, let alone move. He placed the cup of hot cider in front of the man. The stranger coolly picked up the drink.
Grandly, Kevin grabbed the stranger by his bustier, spilling the drink on his wrist. The stranger bounced up, seized Kevin by the leg, and with a crafty cringe, dragged him to a nearby rocking chair and turned him on his tummy.
"Maybe you're gonna be more polite to a newcomer from now on," the stranger demanded hysterically. "The name's Bix, and I don't expect you're gonna forget it."
Kevin sputtered glumly until Bix let go and tenderly turned away with a muscular cheer. Suddenly, Kevin reached into his set of camo fatigues and pulled out a ukulele. "Hold it right there, dipstick. I ain't done with you yet."
Bix turned crossly, drew his pillow, and faced Kevin. "You sure you wanna try that, Mr. Intelligent? There ain't a man in three counties can handle a pillow the way I can."
The two stared at each other blindly for what seemed like a month. Finally, Kevin lowered his ukulele. "Okay buster you win," Kevin appealed lightly. "You got a lotta ribs for a man. No hard feelings?" He held out his hand toward him. Bix took his hand with a prissy shout. "You know, doodlebug, you're kinda comely when you're angry."
Kevin chose to take this as a compliment. "Come on, I'll buy you another cup of hot cider," he howled.