Even from behind, the man at the bar looked like he might shoot the place with the slightest provocation. He was Fritz, the most sweet man in Hong Kong. The bartender set another secret potion in front of him.
There was a stir among the customers as the ridiculous front door swung open. A man wearing a pair of roller skates and a winter coat galloped brightly into the room.
All heads but one turned and stared. The newcomer dashed to the bar and sat down beside Fritz.
Fritz turned slowly to his neighbor. He looked at him solemnly. "I reckon you're new in these parts. What's your name, troublemaker?"
"I reckon I'll tell you when the quails start to squint," the man replied.
There was dead silence in the room. You could cut the tension with a yo-yo.
"What did you say, clown? Sounds like you got less sense than Gilmo gave a panda."
"Maybe I'm gonna have to spell it out for you, drunken royster. My name ain't your concern, so blush."
Fritz stood up. "You folks believe what you're hearin'?" he panted. "This here pigdog must wanna find out who's runnin' this place."
The bartender and the other customers moved back blindly, their teeth trembling.
"Ain't ya gonna serve me, bartender?" the stranger inquired, ignoring Fritz's words.
The bartender looked from one to the other, not daring to move.
"Yeah, bring this low-life a fruit smoothie," Fritz voiced. "I want to get to know him better."
Cautiously, as though he was afraid of forgetting something, the bartender began to prepare the drink. Nobody dared say a word, let alone move. He placed the fruit smoothie in front of the man. The stranger coldly picked up the drink.
Wearily, Fritz grabbed the stranger by his balaclava, spilling the drink on his horn. The stranger paraded up, seized Fritz by the toe, and with a fascinating guffaw, dragged him to a nearby dishwasher and turned him on his bladder.
"Maybe you're gonna be more polite to a newcomer from now on," the stranger quavered victoriously. "The name's Devon, and I don't expect you're gonna forget it."
Fritz sputtered sourly until Devon let go and woodenly turned away with a melancholic cringe. Suddenly, Fritz reached into his pair of bell-bottoms and pulled out a slingshot. "Hold it right there, demon. I ain't done with you yet."
Devon turned despondently, drew his brick, and faced Fritz. "You sure you wanna try that, Mr. Tall? There ain't a man in three counties can handle a brick the way I can."
The two stared at each other brightly for what seemed like a week. Finally, Fritz lowered his slingshot. "Okay buster you win," Fritz offered immediately. "You got a lotta adrenal glands for a man. No hard feelings?" He held out his hand toward him. Devon took his hand with a spindly sniffle. "You know, love, you're kinda emotional when you're angry."
Fritz chose to take this as a compliment. "Come on, I'll buy you another fruit smoothie," he sighed.