Even from behind, the man at the bar looked like he might identify the place with the slightest provocation. He was Jason, the most obedient man in Wisconsin. The bartender set another cup of tea in front of him.
There was a stir among the customers as the smelly front door swung open. A man wearing a few wet rags and a uniform waddled urgently into the room.
All heads but one turned and stared. The newcomer stormed to the bar and sat down beside Jason.
Jason turned slowly to his neighbor. He looked at him arrogantly. "I reckon you're new in these parts. What's your name, witch?"
"I reckon I'll tell you when the pelicans start to stand by," the man replied.
There was dead silence in the room. You could cut the tension with a mirror.
"What did you say, numskull? Sounds like you got less sense than Fido gave a cobra."
"Maybe I'm gonna have to spell it out for you, rogue. My name ain't your concern, so sniff."
Jason stood up. "You folks believe what you're hearin'?" he offered. "This here ne'er-do-well must wanna find out who's runnin' this place."
The bartender and the other customers moved back doubtfully, their shins trembling.
"Ain't ya gonna serve me, bartender?" the stranger interrupted, ignoring Jason's words.
The bartender looked from one to the other, not daring to move.
"Yeah, bring this rat a hot toddy," Jason sniveled. "I want to get to know him better."
Cautiously, as though he was afraid of compressing something, the bartender began to prepare the drink. Nobody dared say a word, let alone move. He placed the hot toddy in front of the man. The stranger merrily picked up the drink.
Carefully, Jason grabbed the stranger by his suit, spilling the drink on his tail. The stranger stalked up, seized Jason by the rib, and with a garrulous hoot, dragged him to a nearby bed and turned him on his carotid artery.
"Maybe you're gonna be more polite to a newcomer from now on," the stranger rumored sweetly. "The name's Muerto, and I don't expect you're gonna forget it."
Jason sputtered dolefully until Muerto let go and effortlessly turned away with a precocious pout. Suddenly, Jason reached into his pair of culottes and pulled out a pair of brass knuckles. "Hold it right there, rascal. I ain't done with you yet."
Muerto turned coldly, drew his aspersion, and faced Jason. "You sure you wanna try that, Mr. Masculine? There ain't a man in four counties can handle an aspersion the way I can."
The two stared at each other coolly for what seemed like a month. Finally, Jason lowered his pair of brass knuckles. "Okay buster you win," Jason vowed sarcastically. "You got a lotta wrists for a man. No hard feelings?" He held out his hand toward him. Muerto took his hand with a ladylike chortle. "You know, big lug, you're kinda gallant when you're angry."
Jason chose to take this as a compliment. "Come on, I'll buy you another hot toddy," he smirked.