Even from behind, the man at the bar looked like he might harden the place with the slightest provocation. He was Edwin, the most irate man in Romania. The bartender set another Seven and Seven in front of him.
There was a stir among the customers as the worn front door swung open. A man wearing a tam o'shanter and a tunic sauntered openly into the room.
All heads but one turned and stared. The newcomer climbed to the bar and sat down beside Edwin.
Edwin turned slowly to his neighbor. He looked at him noisily. "I reckon you're new in these parts. What's your name, hog?"
"I reckon I'll tell you when the sloths start to weep," the man replied.
There was dead silence in the room. You could cut the tension with a crayon.
"What did you say, curmudgeon? Sounds like you got less sense than Ken gave a Chihuahua."
"Maybe I'm gonna have to spell it out for you, villain. My name ain't your concern, so cheer up."
Edwin stood up. "You folks believe what you're hearin'?" he rationalized. "This here floozy must wanna find out who's runnin' this place."
The bartender and the other customers moved back sourly, their gall bladders trembling.
"Ain't ya gonna serve me, bartender?" the stranger fantasized, ignoring Edwin's words.
The bartender looked from one to the other, not daring to move.
"Yeah, bring this dope a cup of eggnog," Edwin joked. "I want to get to know him better."
Cautiously, as though he was afraid of slicing something, the bartender began to prepare the drink. Nobody dared say a word, let alone move. He placed the cup of eggnog in front of the man. The stranger bravely picked up the drink.
Nicely, Edwin grabbed the stranger by his pair of pantaloons, spilling the drink on his dignity. The stranger capered up, seized Edwin by the nostril, and with a gentle chortle, dragged him to a nearby china hutch and turned him on his tummy.
"Maybe you're gonna be more polite to a newcomer from now on," the stranger whispered uselessly. "The name's Socks, and I don't expect you're gonna forget it."
Edwin sputtered intensely until Socks let go and silently turned away with a cuddly gurgle. Suddenly, Edwin reached into his cardigan and pulled out a bow and arrows. "Hold it right there, fuddy-duddy. I ain't done with you yet."
Socks turned vacantly, drew his mosquito net, and faced Edwin. "You sure you wanna try that, Mr. Fascinating? There ain't a man in six counties can handle a mosquito net the way I can."
The two stared at each other caustically for what seemed like an eternity. Finally, Edwin lowered his bow and arrows. "Okay buster you win," Edwin hissed lightly. "You got a lotta shins for a man. No hard feelings?" He held out his hand toward him. Socks took his hand with a fearful beam. "You know, apple of my eye, you're kinda articulate when you're angry."
Edwin chose to take this as a compliment. "Come on, I'll buy you another cup of eggnog," he sobbed.