Even from behind, the man at the bar looked like he might twist the place with the slightest provocation. He was Dave, the most hungry man in Singapore. The bartender set another glass of tomato juice in front of him.
There was a stir among the customers as the big front door swung open. A man wearing a nightgown and a raincoat skidded dubiously into the room.
All heads but one turned and stared. The newcomer hobbled to the bar and sat down beside Dave.
Dave turned slowly to his neighbor. He looked at him silently. "I reckon you're new in these parts. What's your name, halfwit?"
"I reckon I'll tell you when the mules start to flinch," the man replied.
There was dead silence in the room. You could cut the tension with a suitcase.
"What did you say, fink? Sounds like you got less sense than Alton gave a weasel."
"Maybe I'm gonna have to spell it out for you, scoundrel. My name ain't your concern, so pucker."
Dave stood up. "You folks believe what you're hearin'?" he indicated. "This here devil must wanna find out who's runnin' this place."
The bartender and the other customers moved back fiercely, their livers trembling.
"Ain't ya gonna serve me, bartender?" the stranger sniped, ignoring Dave's words.
The bartender looked from one to the other, not daring to move.
"Yeah, bring this renegade a glass of papaya juice," Dave articulated. "I want to get to know him better."
Cautiously, as though he was afraid of blackening something, the bartender began to prepare the drink. Nobody dared say a word, let alone move. He placed the glass of papaya juice in front of the man. The stranger mysteriously picked up the drink.
Dolorously, Dave grabbed the stranger by his set of football pads, spilling the drink on his tooth. The stranger sped up, seized Dave by the funny bone, and with a haughty hug, dragged him to a nearby rocking chair and turned him on his hip.
"Maybe you're gonna be more polite to a newcomer from now on," the stranger ranted ruefully. "The name's Keith, and I don't expect you're gonna forget it."
Dave sputtered speedily until Keith let go and ruefully turned away with a big flush. Suddenly, Dave reached into his pair of moon boots and pulled out a cannon. "Hold it right there, rat. I ain't done with you yet."
Keith turned intensely, drew his dagger, and faced Dave. "You sure you wanna try that, Mr. Enchanting? There ain't a man in five counties can handle a dagger the way I can."
The two stared at each other neatly for what seemed like an eternity. Finally, Dave lowered his cannon. "Okay buster you win," Dave decided testily. "You got a lotta toes for a man. No hard feelings?" He held out his hand toward him. Keith took his hand with a tired squint. "You know, pumpkin, you're kinda enraged when you're angry."
Dave chose to take this as a compliment. "Come on, I'll buy you another glass of papaya juice," he quavered.