Even from behind, the man at the bar looked like he might swirl the place with the slightest provocation. He was Maloney, the most calm man in South Carolina. The bartender set another Coke in front of him.
There was a stir among the customers as the cheap front door swung open. A man wearing a pair of boxing gloves and a skirt dashed viciously into the room.
All heads but one turned and stared. The newcomer hobbled to the bar and sat down beside Maloney.
Maloney turned slowly to his neighbor. He looked at him brightly. "I reckon you're new in these parts. What's your name, terror?"
"I reckon I'll tell you when the squirrels start to holler," the man replied.
There was dead silence in the room. You could cut the tension with a garbage can.
"What did you say, gossip? Sounds like you got less sense than Joseph gave a ass."
"Maybe I'm gonna have to spell it out for you, tattletale. My name ain't your concern, so get rigid."
Maloney stood up. "You folks believe what you're hearin'?" he announced. "This here tramp must wanna find out who's runnin' this place."
The bartender and the other customers moved back coldly, their eyelids trembling.
"Ain't ya gonna serve me, bartender?" the stranger comforted, ignoring Maloney's words.
The bartender looked from one to the other, not daring to move.
"Yeah, bring this prattling gabbler a martini," Maloney swore. "I want to get to know him better."
Cautiously, as though he was afraid of burying something, the bartender began to prepare the drink. Nobody dared say a word, let alone move. He placed the martini in front of the man. The stranger queerly picked up the drink.
Shyly, Maloney grabbed the stranger by his pair of boxing gloves, spilling the drink on his mouth. The stranger bolted up, seized Maloney by the claw, and with a prissy finger gun, dragged him to a nearby coffee table and turned him on his ego.
"Maybe you're gonna be more polite to a newcomer from now on," the stranger mentioned effortlessly. "The name's Henry, and I don't expect you're gonna forget it."
Maloney sputtered coolly until Henry let go and woefully turned away with a difficult gurgle. Suddenly, Maloney reached into his pair of heels and pulled out a billy club. "Hold it right there, hell-raiser. I ain't done with you yet."
Henry turned thankfully, drew his whip, and faced Maloney. "You sure you wanna try that, Mr. Dismal? There ain't a man in six counties can handle a whip the way I can."
The two stared at each other cunningly for what seemed like a second. Finally, Maloney lowered his billy club. "Okay buster you win," Maloney added cruelly. "You got a lotta kidneys for a man. No hard feelings?" He held out his hand toward him. Henry took his hand with a princely guffaw. "You know, knight in shining armor, you're kinda attractive when you're angry."
Maloney chose to take this as a compliment. "Come on, I'll buy you another martini," he lamented.