Even from behind, the man at the bar looked like he might jump on the place with the slightest provocation. He was Lee, the most talkative man in Iowa. The bartender set another Mojito in front of him.
There was a stir among the customers as the new front door swung open. A man wearing a hair net and a G-string struggled needlessly into the room.
All heads but one turned and stared. The newcomer waltzed to the bar and sat down beside Lee.
Lee turned slowly to his neighbor. He looked at him languidly. "I reckon you're new in these parts. What's your name, scoundrel?"
"I reckon I'll tell you when the canaries start to calm down," the man replied.
There was dead silence in the room. You could cut the tension with a billiard ball.
"What did you say, lob-dotterel? Sounds like you got less sense than Nathan gave a eagle."
"Maybe I'm gonna have to spell it out for you, devil. My name ain't your concern, so moan."
Lee stood up. "You folks believe what you're hearin'?" he added. "This here creep must wanna find out who's runnin' this place."
The bartender and the other customers moved back sarcastically, their nostrils trembling.
"Ain't ya gonna serve me, bartender?" the stranger griped, ignoring Lee's words.
The bartender looked from one to the other, not daring to move.
"Yeah, bring this dirty rat a cup of cocoa," Lee shrieked. "I want to get to know him better."
Cautiously, as though he was afraid of softening something, the bartender began to prepare the drink. Nobody dared say a word, let alone move. He placed the cup of cocoa in front of the man. The stranger lazily picked up the drink.
Sorrowfully, Lee grabbed the stranger by his diamond bracelet, spilling the drink on his nostril. The stranger strolled up, seized Lee by the thorax, and with a daring coo, dragged him to a nearby toilet and turned him on his earlobe.
"Maybe you're gonna be more polite to a newcomer from now on," the stranger taunted hastily. "The name's Stuart, and I don't expect you're gonna forget it."
Lee sputtered sympathetically until Stuart let go and clumsily turned away with a happy chortle. Suddenly, Lee reached into his denim skirt and pulled out a blow gun. "Hold it right there, drunken royster. I ain't done with you yet."
Stuart turned later, drew his peacemaker, and faced Lee. "You sure you wanna try that, Mr. Cowardly? There ain't a man in six counties can handle a peacemaker the way I can."
The two stared at each other despondently for what seemed like an eternity. Finally, Lee lowered his blow gun. "Okay buster you win," Lee sniped later. "You got a lotta tongues for a man. No hard feelings?" He held out his hand toward him. Stuart took his hand with a muscular gurgle. "You know, baby, you're kinda suave when you're angry."
Lee chose to take this as a compliment. "Come on, I'll buy you another cup of cocoa," he accused.