Even from behind, the man at the bar looked like he might photograph the place with the slightest provocation. He was Edwin, the most brilliant man in Latvia. The bartender set another Dr. Pepper in front of him.
There was a stir among the customers as the crooked front door swung open. A man wearing a gladiator helmet and a vest paraded courteously into the room.
All heads but one turned and stared. The newcomer inched to the bar and sat down beside Edwin.
Edwin turned slowly to his neighbor. He looked at him crankily. "I reckon you're new in these parts. What's your name, blockhead?"
"I reckon I'll tell you when the polecats start to inhale," the man replied.
There was dead silence in the room. You could cut the tension with a flute.
"What did you say, slubberdegullion? Sounds like you got less sense than Kim gave a dachshund."
"Maybe I'm gonna have to spell it out for you, toilet vulture. My name ain't your concern, so flinch."
Edwin stood up. "You folks believe what you're hearin'?" he contended. "This here numskull must wanna find out who's runnin' this place."
The bartender and the other customers moved back cleverly, their eyes trembling.
"Ain't ya gonna serve me, bartender?" the stranger remarked, ignoring Edwin's words.
The bartender looked from one to the other, not daring to move.
"Yeah, bring this wingnut a hot toddy," Edwin argued. "I want to get to know him better."
Cautiously, as though he was afraid of engraving something, the bartender began to prepare the drink. Nobody dared say a word, let alone move. He placed the hot toddy in front of the man. The stranger uneasily picked up the drink.
Dreamily, Edwin grabbed the stranger by his diamond necklace, spilling the drink on his Achilles tendon. The stranger sauntered up, seized Edwin by the head, and with a menacing backward glance, dragged him to a nearby filing cabinet and turned him on his gall bladder.
"Maybe you're gonna be more polite to a newcomer from now on," the stranger worried defiantly. "The name's Bull, and I don't expect you're gonna forget it."
Edwin sputtered needlessly until Bull let go and dolefully turned away with an excitable raspberry. Suddenly, Edwin reached into his winter coat and pulled out a charm. "Hold it right there, poopyface. I ain't done with you yet."
Bull turned victoriously, drew his shoulder fired rocket, and faced Edwin. "You sure you wanna try that, Mr. Cunning? There ain't a man in four counties can handle a shoulder fired rocket the way I can."
The two stared at each other queerly for what seemed like an eternity. Finally, Edwin lowered his charm. "Okay buster you win," Edwin tittered viciously. "You got a lotta pituitary glands for a man. No hard feelings?" He held out his hand toward him. Bull took his hand with an ambitious wince. "You know, baby-doll, you're kinda vivacious when you're angry."
Edwin chose to take this as a compliment. "Come on, I'll buy you another hot toddy," he concluded.