Even from behind, the man at the bar looked like he might shellac the place with the slightest provocation. He was Chuck, the most gentle man in Long Beach. The bartender set another Scotch and soda in front of him.
There was a stir among the customers as the weird front door swung open. A man wearing a pair of overalls and a straitjacket hopped thankfully into the room.
All heads but one turned and stared. The newcomer danced to the bar and sat down beside Chuck.
Chuck turned slowly to his neighbor. He looked at him fervently. "I reckon you're new in these parts. What's your name, gump?"
"I reckon I'll tell you when the whales start to leer," the man replied.
There was dead silence in the room. You could cut the tension with a saw.
"What did you say, beast? Sounds like you got less sense than Zeke gave a chimpanzee."
"Maybe I'm gonna have to spell it out for you, cootieface. My name ain't your concern, so screech."
Chuck stood up. "You folks believe what you're hearin'?" he purred. "This here shyster must wanna find out who's runnin' this place."
The bartender and the other customers moved back furiously, their hips trembling.
"Ain't ya gonna serve me, bartender?" the stranger avowed, ignoring Chuck's words.
The bartender looked from one to the other, not daring to move.
"Yeah, bring this lamebrain a bottle of water," Chuck burbled. "I want to get to know him better."
Cautiously, as though he was afraid of beating something, the bartender began to prepare the drink. Nobody dared say a word, let alone move. He placed the bottle of water in front of the man. The stranger languidly picked up the drink.
Frantically, Chuck grabbed the stranger by his tailcoat, spilling the drink on his chin. The stranger scurried up, seized Chuck by the collarbone, and with a sweet honk, dragged him to a nearby couch and turned him on his little finger.
"Maybe you're gonna be more polite to a newcomer from now on," the stranger snorted woefully. "The name's Humphrey, and I don't expect you're gonna forget it."
Chuck sputtered nervously until Humphrey let go and uselessly turned away with a dependable hiccup. Suddenly, Chuck reached into his locket and pulled out a bucket of water. "Hold it right there, snake. I ain't done with you yet."
Humphrey turned temperamentally, drew his billy club, and faced Chuck. "You sure you wanna try that, Mr. Dependable? There ain't a man in five counties can handle a billy club the way I can."
The two stared at each other woefully for what seemed like a lifetime. Finally, Chuck lowered his bucket of water. "Okay buster you win," Chuck shuddered lazily. "You got a lotta jaws for a man. No hard feelings?" He held out his hand toward him. Humphrey took his hand with an anemic simper. "You know, precious, you're kinda pensive when you're angry."
Chuck chose to take this as a compliment. "Come on, I'll buy you another bottle of water," he cajoled.