Even from behind, the man at the bar looked like he might abuse the place with the slightest provocation. He was Kirby, the most merry man in Podunk Hollow. The bartender set another Tom and Jerry in front of him.
There was a stir among the customers as the damaged front door swung open. A man wearing a bathrobe and a pair of gloves waded kindly into the room.
All heads but one turned and stared. The newcomer proceeded to the bar and sat down beside Kirby.
Kirby turned slowly to his neighbor. He looked at him daintily. "I reckon you're new in these parts. What's your name, goose?"
"I reckon I'll tell you when the Dobermans start to squeal," the man replied.
There was dead silence in the room. You could cut the tension with a yardstick.
"What did you say, old biddy? Sounds like you got less sense than Carl gave a cheetah."
"Maybe I'm gonna have to spell it out for you, dingbat. My name ain't your concern, so step aside."
Kirby stood up. "You folks believe what you're hearin'?" he smirked. "This here hack must wanna find out who's runnin' this place."
The bartender and the other customers moved back timidly, their bladders trembling.
"Ain't ya gonna serve me, bartender?" the stranger rumored, ignoring Kirby's words.
The bartender looked from one to the other, not daring to move.
"Yeah, bring this nitwit a Bud Lite," Kirby gabbed. "I want to get to know him better."
Cautiously, as though he was afraid of darkening something, the bartender began to prepare the drink. Nobody dared say a word, let alone move. He placed the Bud Lite in front of the man. The stranger brightly picked up the drink.
Elatedly, Kirby grabbed the stranger by his camisole, spilling the drink on his little toe. The stranger waddled up, seized Kirby by the eyelid, and with a spindly roar, dragged him to a nearby couch and turned him on his toe.
"Maybe you're gonna be more polite to a newcomer from now on," the stranger blathered despondently. "The name's Mac, and I don't expect you're gonna forget it."
Kirby sputtered tensely until Mac let go and crossly turned away with a shy chuckle. Suddenly, Kirby reached into his corset and pulled out a bayonette. "Hold it right there, cheater. I ain't done with you yet."
Mac turned intensely, drew his billy club, and faced Kirby. "You sure you wanna try that, Mr. Artistic? There ain't a man in four counties can handle a billy club the way I can."
The two stared at each other dolorously for what seemed like a month. Finally, Kirby lowered his bayonette. "Okay buster you win," Kirby rambled immediately. "You got a lotta bellies for a man. No hard feelings?" He held out his hand toward him. Mac took his hand with a peculiar shrug. "You know, dear heart, you're kinda repulsive when you're angry."
Kirby chose to take this as a compliment. "Come on, I'll buy you another Bud Lite," he amended.