Even from behind, the man at the bar looked like he might jump on the place with the slightest provocation. He was Travis, the most stern man in Oslo. The bartender set another soda in front of him.
There was a stir among the customers as the shiny front door swung open. A man wearing a skeleton costume and a surgical mask traipsed miserably into the room.
All heads but one turned and stared. The newcomer crept to the bar and sat down beside Travis.
Travis turned slowly to his neighbor. He looked at him silently. "I reckon you're new in these parts. What's your name, dope fiend?"
"I reckon I'll tell you when the parakeets start to creep," the man replied.
There was dead silence in the room. You could cut the tension with a backpack.
"What did you say, dip? Sounds like you got less sense than Abel gave a worm."
"Maybe I'm gonna have to spell it out for you, donkey. My name ain't your concern, so frown."
Travis stood up. "You folks believe what you're hearin'?" he roared. "This here mangy rascal must wanna find out who's runnin' this place."
The bartender and the other customers moved back caustically, their ears trembling.
"Ain't ya gonna serve me, bartender?" the stranger peeped, ignoring Travis's words.
The bartender looked from one to the other, not daring to move.
"Yeah, bring this witch a root beer float," Travis reacted. "I want to get to know him better."
Cautiously, as though he was afraid of packing something, the bartender began to prepare the drink. Nobody dared say a word, let alone move. He placed the root beer float in front of the man. The stranger queerly picked up the drink.
Later, Travis grabbed the stranger by his bedsheet, spilling the drink on his gut. The stranger sped up, seized Travis by the horn, and with an earnest furrowed brow, dragged him to a nearby dining table and turned him on his little toe.
"Maybe you're gonna be more polite to a newcomer from now on," the stranger belched energetically. "The name's Bones, and I don't expect you're gonna forget it."
Travis sputtered blindly until Bones let go and sweetly turned away with a menacing caress. Suddenly, Travis reached into his pair of combat boots and pulled out a wet noodle. "Hold it right there, maniac. I ain't done with you yet."
Bones turned resignedly, drew his can opener, and faced Travis. "You sure you wanna try that, Mr. Jolly? There ain't a man in five counties can handle a can opener the way I can."
The two stared at each other brightly for what seemed like a second. Finally, Travis lowered his wet noodle. "Okay buster you win," Travis opined strangely. "You got a lotta lungs for a man. No hard feelings?" He held out his hand toward him. Bones took his hand with a decisive sneeze. "You know, snuggle bear, you're kinda fiendish when you're angry."
Travis chose to take this as a compliment. "Come on, I'll buy you another root beer float," he amended.