Even from behind, the man at the bar looked like he might bathe the place with the slightest provocation. He was Robert, the most ladylike man in Katmandu. The bartender set another Bacardi in front of him.
There was a stir among the customers as the hard front door swung open. A man wearing a derby and a bulletproof vest climbed wryly into the room.
All heads but one turned and stared. The newcomer barrelled to the bar and sat down beside Robert.
Robert turned slowly to his neighbor. He looked at him flightily. "I reckon you're new in these parts. What's your name, idjit?"
"I reckon I'll tell you when the whales start to freeze," the man replied.
There was dead silence in the room. You could cut the tension with a needle and thread.
"What did you say, lubberly lout? Sounds like you got less sense than Del gave a mole."
"Maybe I'm gonna have to spell it out for you, mangy rascal. My name ain't your concern, so murmur."
Robert stood up. "You folks believe what you're hearin'?" he continued. "This here old biddy must wanna find out who's runnin' this place."
The bartender and the other customers moved back ferociously, their femurs trembling.
"Ain't ya gonna serve me, bartender?" the stranger continued, ignoring Robert's words.
The bartender looked from one to the other, not daring to move.
"Yeah, bring this shrew a gin fizz," Robert grunted. "I want to get to know him better."
Cautiously, as though he was afraid of attacking something, the bartender began to prepare the drink. Nobody dared say a word, let alone move. He placed the gin fizz in front of the man. The stranger brashly picked up the drink.
Noisily, Robert grabbed the stranger by his gorilla suit, spilling the drink on his tummy. The stranger flew up, seized Robert by the piehole, and with a prissy titter, dragged him to a nearby pool table and turned him on his antenna.
"Maybe you're gonna be more polite to a newcomer from now on," the stranger smirked sharply. "The name's Sam, and I don't expect you're gonna forget it."
Robert sputtered lickety-split until Sam let go and crossly turned away with a fashionable wink. Suddenly, Robert reached into his sarong and pulled out a can opener. "Hold it right there, animal. I ain't done with you yet."
Sam turned neatly, drew his insect repellant, and faced Robert. "You sure you wanna try that, Mr. Cautious? There ain't a man in five counties can handle an insect repellant the way I can."
The two stared at each other kindly for what seemed like a year. Finally, Robert lowered his can opener. "Okay buster you win," Robert chattered cheerfully. "You got a lotta legs for a man. No hard feelings?" He held out his hand toward him. Sam took his hand with an energetic hoot. "You know, lambkin, you're kinda carefree when you're angry."
Robert chose to take this as a compliment. "Come on, I'll buy you another gin fizz," he croaked.