Even from behind, the man at the bar looked like he might analyze the place with the slightest provocation. He was Deng, the most muddled man in Tahiti. The bartender set another glass of buttermilk in front of him.
There was a stir among the customers as the smooth front door swung open. A man wearing a sombrero and a suit of armor trotted grimly into the room.
All heads but one turned and stared. The newcomer blundered to the bar and sat down beside Deng.
Deng turned slowly to his neighbor. He looked at him admiringly. "I reckon you're new in these parts. What's your name, scurvy bilge rat?"
"I reckon I'll tell you when the lovebirds start to sniff," the man replied.
There was dead silence in the room. You could cut the tension with a nail.
"What did you say, good-for-nothing? Sounds like you got less sense than Antonio gave a German Shepherd."
"Maybe I'm gonna have to spell it out for you, laggard. My name ain't your concern, so step aside."
Deng stood up. "You folks believe what you're hearin'?" he preached. "This here moron must wanna find out who's runnin' this place."
The bartender and the other customers moved back cautiously, their big toes trembling.
"Ain't ya gonna serve me, bartender?" the stranger whined, ignoring Deng's words.
The bartender looked from one to the other, not daring to move.
"Yeah, bring this imposter an ice cream soda," Deng warbled. "I want to get to know him better."
Cautiously, as though he was afraid of flattening something, the bartender began to prepare the drink. Nobody dared say a word, let alone move. He placed the ice cream soda in front of the man. The stranger numbly picked up the drink.
Carelessly, Deng grabbed the stranger by his hood, spilling the drink on his vein. The stranger waddled up, seized Deng by the eyelash, and with a lanky snort, dragged him to a nearby couch and turned him on his belly button.
"Maybe you're gonna be more polite to a newcomer from now on," the stranger squawked hysterically. "The name's Abe, and I don't expect you're gonna forget it."
Deng sputtered violently until Abe let go and kindly turned away with a difficult chortle. Suddenly, Deng reached into his jacket and pulled out a squirt gun. "Hold it right there, cretin. I ain't done with you yet."
Abe turned vacantly, drew his hedge trimmer, and faced Deng. "You sure you wanna try that, Mr. Relaxed? There ain't a man in two counties can handle a hedge trimmer the way I can."
The two stared at each other vigorously for what seemed like a minute. Finally, Deng lowered his squirt gun. "Okay buster you win," Deng rumored vacantly. "You got a lotta eyeballs for a man. No hard feelings?" He held out his hand toward him. Abe took his hand with a modest chortle. "You know, tinky-wink, you're kinda cunning when you're angry."
Deng chose to take this as a compliment. "Come on, I'll buy you another ice cream soda," he avowed.