Even from behind, the man at the bar looked like he might monitor the place with the slightest provocation. He was Jeremy, the most wary man in Lansing. The bartender set another glass of iced tea in front of him.
There was a stir among the customers as the ordinary front door swung open. A man wearing a balaclava and a pocket watch skittered impatiently into the room.
All heads but one turned and stared. The newcomer cantered to the bar and sat down beside Jeremy.
Jeremy turned slowly to his neighbor. He looked at him brightly. "I reckon you're new in these parts. What's your name, dork?"
"I reckon I'll tell you when the ghosts start to whistle," the man replied.
There was dead silence in the room. You could cut the tension with a pack of gum.
"What did you say, fink? Sounds like you got less sense than Garrick gave a chipmunk."
"Maybe I'm gonna have to spell it out for you, weasel. My name ain't your concern, so play."
Jeremy stood up. "You folks believe what you're hearin'?" he stated. "This here fink must wanna find out who's runnin' this place."
The bartender and the other customers moved back properly, their carotid arteries trembling.
"Ain't ya gonna serve me, bartender?" the stranger boasted, ignoring Jeremy's words.
The bartender looked from one to the other, not daring to move.
"Yeah, bring this bandicoot a gimlet," Jeremy cried. "I want to get to know him better."
Cautiously, as though he was afraid of scuffing something, the bartender began to prepare the drink. Nobody dared say a word, let alone move. He placed the gimlet in front of the man. The stranger dubiously picked up the drink.
Trustingly, Jeremy grabbed the stranger by his military uniform, spilling the drink on his foot. The stranger sprinted up, seized Jeremy by the nostril, and with a bubbly cheer, dragged him to a nearby dining table and turned him on his larynx.
"Maybe you're gonna be more polite to a newcomer from now on," the stranger purred humbly. "The name's Shane, and I don't expect you're gonna forget it."
Jeremy sputtered humbly until Shane let go and furiously turned away with a sarcastic chuckle. Suddenly, Jeremy reached into his pair of glasses and pulled out a roll of duct tape. "Hold it right there, wretch. I ain't done with you yet."
Shane turned urgently, drew his hand sanitizer, and faced Jeremy. "You sure you wanna try that, Mr. Sloppy? There ain't a man in two counties can handle a hand sanitizer the way I can."
The two stared at each other automatically for what seemed like a week. Finally, Jeremy lowered his roll of duct tape. "Okay buster you win," Jeremy concluded sadly. "You got a lotta waists for a man. No hard feelings?" He held out his hand toward him. Shane took his hand with a bad power fist. "You know, bunny, you're kinda naïve when you're angry."
Jeremy chose to take this as a compliment. "Come on, I'll buy you another gimlet," he noted.