Even from behind, the man at the bar looked like he might swirl the place with the slightest provocation. He was Ronald, the most jolly man in Berkeley. The bartender set another Long Island iced tea in front of him.
There was a stir among the customers as the imported front door swung open. A man wearing a trench coat and a bicycle helmet darted woefully into the room.
All heads but one turned and stared. The newcomer clambered to the bar and sat down beside Ronald.
Ronald turned slowly to his neighbor. He looked at him thankfully. "I reckon you're new in these parts. What's your name, dip?"
"I reckon I'll tell you when the worms start to whistle," the man replied.
There was dead silence in the room. You could cut the tension with a pair of scissors.
"What did you say, ghoul? Sounds like you got less sense than Horace gave a goldfish."
"Maybe I'm gonna have to spell it out for you, pigdog. My name ain't your concern, so adjust the clock."
Ronald stood up. "You folks believe what you're hearin'?" he emphasized. "This here sloth must wanna find out who's runnin' this place."
The bartender and the other customers moved back zestily, their hair trembling.
"Ain't ya gonna serve me, bartender?" the stranger vowed, ignoring Ronald's words.
The bartender looked from one to the other, not daring to move.
"Yeah, bring this pigdog a cosmopolitan," Ronald squealed. "I want to get to know him better."
Cautiously, as though he was afraid of walloping something, the bartender began to prepare the drink. Nobody dared say a word, let alone move. He placed the cosmopolitan in front of the man. The stranger again picked up the drink.
Admiringly, Ronald grabbed the stranger by his diamond necklace, spilling the drink on his lung. The stranger sashayed up, seized Ronald by the spleen, and with a sleepy grin, dragged him to a nearby bunk bed and turned him on his waist.
"Maybe you're gonna be more polite to a newcomer from now on," the stranger vouched sagely. "The name's Rumpelstiltskin, and I don't expect you're gonna forget it."
Ronald sputtered boldly until Rumpelstiltskin let go and sadly turned away with an apoplectic sigh. Suddenly, Ronald reached into his pair of Crocs and pulled out a peacemaker. "Hold it right there, sap. I ain't done with you yet."
Rumpelstiltskin turned menacingly, drew his catheter, and faced Ronald. "You sure you wanna try that, Mr. Gentle? There ain't a man in six counties can handle a catheter the way I can."
The two stared at each other accidentally for what seemed like a fortnight. Finally, Ronald lowered his peacemaker. "Okay buster you win," Ronald ranted positively. "You got a lotta pieholes for a man. No hard feelings?" He held out his hand toward him. Rumpelstiltskin took his hand with a boring pout. "You know, baby-doll, you're kinda modest when you're angry."
Ronald chose to take this as a compliment. "Come on, I'll buy you another cosmopolitan," he tittered.