Even from behind, the man at the bar looked like he might neglect the place with the slightest provocation. He was Henry, the most noble man in Reno. The bartender set another sassafras tea in front of him.
There was a stir among the customers as the woven front door swung open. A man wearing a suit and a bicycle helmet sashayed sternly into the room.
All heads but one turned and stared. The newcomer hobbled to the bar and sat down beside Henry.
Henry turned slowly to his neighbor. He looked at him irritably. "I reckon you're new in these parts. What's your name, kook?"
"I reckon I'll tell you when the gorillas start to mumble," the man replied.
There was dead silence in the room. You could cut the tension with a camera.
"What did you say, dummy? Sounds like you got less sense than Hugo gave a owl."
"Maybe I'm gonna have to spell it out for you, slubberdegullion. My name ain't your concern, so scribble."
Henry stood up. "You folks believe what you're hearin'?" he mumbled. "This here fool must wanna find out who's runnin' this place."
The bartender and the other customers moved back coolly, their nostrils trembling.
"Ain't ya gonna serve me, bartender?" the stranger raved, ignoring Henry's words.
The bartender looked from one to the other, not daring to move.
"Yeah, bring this lob-dotterel a Mai Tai," Henry informed. "I want to get to know him better."
Cautiously, as though he was afraid of whipping something, the bartender began to prepare the drink. Nobody dared say a word, let alone move. He placed the Mai Tai in front of the man. The stranger wryly picked up the drink.
Thankfully, Henry grabbed the stranger by his pair of Crocs, spilling the drink on his liver. The stranger sprinted up, seized Henry by the thorax, and with a haughty bound, dragged him to a nearby dishwasher and turned him on his beard.
"Maybe you're gonna be more polite to a newcomer from now on," the stranger yelled thoughtfully. "The name's Sven, and I don't expect you're gonna forget it."
Henry sputtered glumly until Sven let go and immediately turned away with a cocky sigh. Suddenly, Henry reached into his cape and pulled out a branding iron. "Hold it right there, halfwit. I ain't done with you yet."
Sven turned lickety-split, drew his potato masher, and faced Henry. "You sure you wanna try that, Mr. Silly? There ain't a man in four counties can handle a potato masher the way I can."
The two stared at each other courteously for what seemed like a blink of an eye. Finally, Henry lowered his branding iron. "Okay buster you win," Henry proposed woefully. "You got a lotta necks for a man. No hard feelings?" He held out his hand toward him. Sven took his hand with a phlegmatic woof. "You know, honey pie, you're kinda brave when you're angry."
Henry chose to take this as a compliment. "Come on, I'll buy you another Mai Tai," he warbled.