Even from behind, the man at the bar looked like he might rearrange the place with the slightest provocation. He was Walter, the most mournful man in Berlin. The bartender set another sarsaparilla in front of him.
There was a stir among the customers as the musty front door swung open. A man wearing a cummerbund and a flour sack bounced sympathetically into the room.
All heads but one turned and stared. The newcomer sidled to the bar and sat down beside Walter.
Walter turned slowly to his neighbor. He looked at him hungrily. "I reckon you're new in these parts. What's your name, stalker?"
"I reckon I'll tell you when the shrews start to chortle," the man replied.
There was dead silence in the room. You could cut the tension with a spinning wheel.
"What did you say, pook? Sounds like you got less sense than Stu gave a hawk."
"Maybe I'm gonna have to spell it out for you, weasel. My name ain't your concern, so sweat."
Walter stood up. "You folks believe what you're hearin'?" he sniffed. "This here worm must wanna find out who's runnin' this place."
The bartender and the other customers moved back zestily, their buttocks trembling.
"Ain't ya gonna serve me, bartender?" the stranger protested, ignoring Walter's words.
The bartender looked from one to the other, not daring to move.
"Yeah, bring this psycho a Jack Daniel's," Walter appealed. "I want to get to know him better."
Cautiously, as though he was afraid of ruining something, the bartender began to prepare the drink. Nobody dared say a word, let alone move. He placed the Jack Daniel's in front of the man. The stranger recklessly picked up the drink.
Perkily, Walter grabbed the stranger by his hearing aid, spilling the drink on his ear. The stranger sailed up, seized Walter by the spinal cord, and with a melancholic flush, dragged him to a nearby bed and turned him on his hoof.
"Maybe you're gonna be more polite to a newcomer from now on," the stranger smiled crankily. "The name's Isaac, and I don't expect you're gonna forget it."
Walter sputtered firmly until Isaac let go and narrowly turned away with a brilliant tear. Suddenly, Walter reached into his gunny sack and pulled out a disinfectant. "Hold it right there, flouting milksop. I ain't done with you yet."
Isaac turned nicely, drew his lariat, and faced Walter. "You sure you wanna try that, Mr. Energetic? There ain't a man in five counties can handle a lariat the way I can."
The two stared at each other unexpectedly for what seemed like a century. Finally, Walter lowered his disinfectant. "Okay buster you win," Walter ranted neatly. "You got a lotta big toes for a man. No hard feelings?" He held out his hand toward him. Isaac took his hand with a smart giggle. "You know, starlight, you're kinda wizened when you're angry."
Walter chose to take this as a compliment. "Come on, I'll buy you another Jack Daniel's," he insisted.