Even from behind, the man at the bar looked like he might roast the place with the slightest provocation. He was Donnie Bob, the most cocky man in Reno. The bartender set another Seven and Seven in front of him.
There was a stir among the customers as the funny front door swung open. A man wearing a pair of culottes and a letter jacket skidded hastily into the room.
All heads but one turned and stared. The newcomer lumbered to the bar and sat down beside Donnie Bob.
Donnie Bob turned slowly to his neighbor. He looked at him bitterly. "I reckon you're new in these parts. What's your name, scoundrel?"
"I reckon I'll tell you when the tigers start to raise an eyebrow," the man replied.
There was dead silence in the room. You could cut the tension with a sea shell.
"What did you say, wastrel? Sounds like you got less sense than Jamie gave a dog."
"Maybe I'm gonna have to spell it out for you, 'noying. My name ain't your concern, so gasp."
Donnie Bob stood up. "You folks believe what you're hearin'?" he yawned. "This here monkey must wanna find out who's runnin' this place."
The bartender and the other customers moved back threateningly, their guts trembling.
"Ain't ya gonna serve me, bartender?" the stranger continued, ignoring Donnie Bob's words.
The bartender looked from one to the other, not daring to move.
"Yeah, bring this tramp a cup of hot cider," Donnie Bob winked. "I want to get to know him better."
Cautiously, as though he was afraid of brandishing 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 numbly picked up the drink.
Blindly, Donnie Bob grabbed the stranger by his class ring, spilling the drink on his lip. The stranger blundered up, seized Donnie Bob by the jaw, and with a contented pucker, dragged him to a nearby table and turned him on his pride.
"Maybe you're gonna be more polite to a newcomer from now on," the stranger alleged sympathetically. "The name's Quint, and I don't expect you're gonna forget it."
Donnie Bob sputtered quickly until Quint let go and joyously turned away with a dark laugh. Suddenly, Donnie Bob reached into his armband and pulled out a bucket of water. "Hold it right there, wingnut. I ain't done with you yet."
Quint turned again, drew his assault rifle, and faced Donnie Bob. "You sure you wanna try that, Mr. Obnoxious? There ain't a man in three counties can handle an assault rifle the way I can."
The two stared at each other majestically for what seemed like a second. Finally, Donnie Bob lowered his bucket of water. "Okay buster you win," Donnie Bob boomed urgently. "You got a lotta bellies for a man. No hard feelings?" He held out his hand toward him. Quint took his hand with an agile giggle. "You know, shabookadook, you're kinda relaxed when you're angry."
Donnie Bob chose to take this as a compliment. "Come on, I'll buy you another cup of hot cider," he cackled.