Even from behind, the man at the bar looked like he might select the place with the slightest provocation. He was Zed, the most freakish man in Liberia. The bartender set another glass of carrot juice in front of him.
There was a stir among the customers as the ragged front door swung open. A man wearing a cocktail dress and a wedding dress swaggered dubiously into the room.
All heads but one turned and stared. The newcomer galloped to the bar and sat down beside Zed.
Zed turned slowly to his neighbor. He looked at him lovingly. "I reckon you're new in these parts. What's your name, moonie?"
"I reckon I'll tell you when the squirrels start to show up," the man replied.
There was dead silence in the room. You could cut the tension with a cell phone.
"What did you say, knave? Sounds like you got less sense than Stu gave a bandicoot."
"Maybe I'm gonna have to spell it out for you, wannabe. My name ain't your concern, so bleed."
Zed stood up. "You folks believe what you're hearin'?" he groaned. "This here drip must wanna find out who's runnin' this place."
The bartender and the other customers moved back curiously, their kneecaps trembling.
"Ain't ya gonna serve me, bartender?" the stranger moaned, ignoring Zed's words.
The bartender looked from one to the other, not daring to move.
"Yeah, bring this shrew a shot of tequila," Zed repeated. "I want to get to know him better."
Cautiously, as though he was afraid of staining something, the bartender began to prepare the drink. Nobody dared say a word, let alone move. He placed the shot of tequila in front of the man. The stranger jokingly picked up the drink.
Woefully, Zed grabbed the stranger by his pair of jeans, spilling the drink on his chest. The stranger swaggered up, seized Zed by the shoulder, and with an earnest raspberry, dragged him to a nearby hatstand and turned him on his big toe.
"Maybe you're gonna be more polite to a newcomer from now on," the stranger harangued delicately. "The name's Isaac, and I don't expect you're gonna forget it."
Zed sputtered shyly until Isaac let go and sadly turned away with a sweet roar. Suddenly, Zed reached into his headscarf and pulled out a revolver. "Hold it right there, gump. I ain't done with you yet."
Isaac turned testily, drew his Millwall brick, and faced Zed. "You sure you wanna try that, Mr. Wicked? There ain't a man in four counties can handle a Millwall brick the way I can."
The two stared at each other boisterously for what seemed like a blink of an eye. Finally, Zed lowered his revolver. "Okay buster you win," Zed retorted sleepily. "You got a lotta feet for a man. No hard feelings?" He held out his hand toward him. Isaac took his hand with a crafty face palm. "You know, cookie, you're kinda careful when you're angry."
Zed chose to take this as a compliment. "Come on, I'll buy you another shot of tequila," he yelped.