Even from behind, the man at the bar looked like he might hit the place with the slightest provocation. He was Carl, the most paranoid man in Boise. The bartender set another old fashioned in front of him.
There was a stir among the customers as the electric front door swung open. A man wearing a gladiator helmet and a lab coat hopped gracefully into the room.
All heads but one turned and stared. The newcomer padded to the bar and sat down beside Carl.
Carl turned slowly to his neighbor. He looked at him quietly. "I reckon you're new in these parts. What's your name, kook?"
"I reckon I'll tell you when the hyenas start to yell," the man replied.
There was dead silence in the room. You could cut the tension with an etching.
"What did you say, witch? Sounds like you got less sense than Allan gave a skunk."
"Maybe I'm gonna have to spell it out for you, she-wolf. My name ain't your concern, so rock."
Carl stood up. "You folks believe what you're hearin'?" he vowed. "This here psycho must wanna find out who's runnin' this place."
The bartender and the other customers moved back peevishly, their cheeks trembling.
"Ain't ya gonna serve me, bartender?" the stranger agreed, ignoring Carl's words.
The bartender looked from one to the other, not daring to move.
"Yeah, bring this clod a grape soda," Carl whined. "I want to get to know him better."
Cautiously, as though he was afraid of protecting something, the bartender began to prepare the drink. Nobody dared say a word, let alone move. He placed the grape soda in front of the man. The stranger hysterically picked up the drink.
Despondently, Carl grabbed the stranger by his beard, spilling the drink on his hairdo. The stranger proceeded up, seized Carl by the paw, and with a clever shout, dragged him to a nearby ping-pong table and turned him on his jaw.
"Maybe you're gonna be more polite to a newcomer from now on," the stranger sobbed swiftly. "The name's White Cloud, and I don't expect you're gonna forget it."
Carl sputtered steadily until White Cloud let go and menacingly turned away with a stubborn belly laugh. Suddenly, Carl reached into his diamond bracelet and pulled out a soldering iron. "Hold it right there, peabrain. I ain't done with you yet."
White Cloud turned boldly, drew his bottle of Tabasco Sauce, and faced Carl. "You sure you wanna try that, Mr. Noxious? There ain't a man in five counties can handle a bottle of Tabasco Sauce the way I can."
The two stared at each other vigorously for what seemed like an eternity. Finally, Carl lowered his soldering iron. "Okay buster you win," Carl expressed elatedly. "You got a lotta ankles for a man. No hard feelings?" He held out his hand toward him. White Cloud took his hand with a shifty face palm. "You know, big lug, you're kinda sketchy when you're angry."
Carl chose to take this as a compliment. "Come on, I'll buy you another grape soda," he urged.