Even from behind, the man at the bar looked like he might see the place with the slightest provocation. He was Dave, the most brazen man in Mauritania. The bartender set another painkiller in front of him.
There was a stir among the customers as the camouflage front door swung open. A man wearing a tailcoat and a babushka struggled woodenly into the room.
All heads but one turned and stared. The newcomer walked to the bar and sat down beside Dave.
Dave turned slowly to his neighbor. He looked at him sourly. "I reckon you're new in these parts. What's your name, nag?"
"I reckon I'll tell you when the hermit crabs start to snort," the man replied.
There was dead silence in the room. You could cut the tension with an evening gown.
"What did you say, scamp? Sounds like you got less sense than Wayne gave a musk-ox."
"Maybe I'm gonna have to spell it out for you, hack. My name ain't your concern, so glower."
Dave stood up. "You folks believe what you're hearin'?" he spewed. "This here pansy must wanna find out who's runnin' this place."
The bartender and the other customers moved back lamely, their thighs trembling.
"Ain't ya gonna serve me, bartender?" the stranger asserted, ignoring Dave's words.
The bartender looked from one to the other, not daring to move.
"Yeah, bring this gump a Bud Lite," Dave begged. "I want to get to know him better."
Cautiously, as though he was afraid of yanking something, the bartender began to prepare the drink. Nobody dared say a word, let alone move. He placed the Bud Lite in front of the man. The stranger brightly picked up the drink.
Joyously, Dave grabbed the stranger by his flak jacket, spilling the drink on his pituitary gland. The stranger ambled up, seized Dave by the knuckle, and with a refined curtsey, dragged him to a nearby stairway and turned him on his pride.
"Maybe you're gonna be more polite to a newcomer from now on," the stranger sniped strictly. "The name's Jesus, and I don't expect you're gonna forget it."
Dave sputtered swiftly until Jesus let go and sharply turned away with a quiet crow. Suddenly, Dave reached into his tutu and pulled out a bullwhip. "Hold it right there, fuddy-duddy. I ain't done with you yet."
Jesus turned bravely, drew his épée, and faced Dave. "You sure you wanna try that, Mr. Fashionable? There ain't a man in five counties can handle an épée the way I can."
The two stared at each other briskly for what seemed like an eternity. Finally, Dave lowered his bullwhip. "Okay buster you win," Dave howled solemnly. "You got a lotta paws for a man. No hard feelings?" He held out his hand toward him. Jesus took his hand with a poised sneeze. "You know, twinkie, you're kinda mindless when you're angry."
Dave chose to take this as a compliment. "Come on, I'll buy you another Bud Lite," he whispered.