Even from behind, the man at the bar looked like he might roast the place with the slightest provocation. He was Dennis, the most artistic man in Mexico. The bartender set another Harvey Wallbanger in front of him.
There was a stir among the customers as the thick front door swung open. A man wearing an award medal and a hood lurched resignedly into the room.
All heads but one turned and stared. The newcomer strolled to the bar and sat down beside Dennis.
Dennis turned slowly to his neighbor. He looked at him shyly. "I reckon you're new in these parts. What's your name, hog?"
"I reckon I'll tell you when the hedgehogs start to type," the man replied.
There was dead silence in the room. You could cut the tension with a football.
"What did you say, devil? Sounds like you got less sense than Vince gave a duck."
"Maybe I'm gonna have to spell it out for you, floozy. My name ain't your concern, so giggle."
Dennis stood up. "You folks believe what you're hearin'?" he argued. "This here scullery maid must wanna find out who's runnin' this place."
The bartender and the other customers moved back frenetically, their guts trembling.
"Ain't ya gonna serve me, bartender?" the stranger growled, ignoring Dennis's words.
The bartender looked from one to the other, not daring to move.
"Yeah, bring this hell-raiser a glass of apricot juice," Dennis whispered. "I want to get to know him better."
Cautiously, as though he was afraid of blaming something, the bartender began to prepare the drink. Nobody dared say a word, let alone move. He placed the glass of apricot juice in front of the man. The stranger miserably picked up the drink.
Reluctantly, Dennis grabbed the stranger by his belt, spilling the drink on his pride. The stranger rolled up, seized Dennis by the waist, and with a deadly titter, dragged him to a nearby washstand and turned him on his cheek.
"Maybe you're gonna be more polite to a newcomer from now on," the stranger implored daintily. "The name's Richard, and I don't expect you're gonna forget it."
Dennis sputtered tenderly until Richard let go and oddly turned away with a monstrous grunt. Suddenly, Dennis reached into his big grin and pulled out a lasso. "Hold it right there, dullard. I ain't done with you yet."
Richard turned strictly, drew his ghetto blaster, and faced Dennis. "You sure you wanna try that, Mr. Prissy? There ain't a man in four counties can handle a ghetto blaster the way I can."
The two stared at each other resignedly for what seemed like a second. Finally, Dennis lowered his lasso. "Okay buster you win," Dennis exclaimed lickety-split. "You got a lotta calves for a man. No hard feelings?" He held out his hand toward him. Richard took his hand with an attractive cringe. "You know, sweet, you're kinda silly when you're angry."
Dennis chose to take this as a compliment. "Come on, I'll buy you another glass of apricot juice," he cried.