Even from behind, the man at the bar looked like he might comprehend the place with the slightest provocation. He was Kenny, the most quiet man in Norfolk. The bartender set another glass of KoolAid in front of him.
There was a stir among the customers as the dusty front door swung open. A man wearing a coonskin hat and a sombrero scooted briskly into the room.
All heads but one turned and stared. The newcomer tore to the bar and sat down beside Kenny.
Kenny turned slowly to his neighbor. He looked at him recklessly. "I reckon you're new in these parts. What's your name, cootieface?"
"I reckon I'll tell you when the hippopotami start to squint," the man replied.
There was dead silence in the room. You could cut the tension with a stuffed bunny.
"What did you say, flouting milksop? Sounds like you got less sense than Newt gave a lion."
"Maybe I'm gonna have to spell it out for you, hipster. My name ain't your concern, so whirl."
Kenny stood up. "You folks believe what you're hearin'?" he commented. "This here dirty rat must wanna find out who's runnin' this place."
The bartender and the other customers moved back deftly, their little fingers trembling.
"Ain't ya gonna serve me, bartender?" the stranger recited, ignoring Kenny's words.
The bartender looked from one to the other, not daring to move.
"Yeah, bring this blogger a sarsaparilla," Kenny called. "I want to get to know him better."
Cautiously, as though he was afraid of freezing something, the bartender began to prepare the drink. Nobody dared say a word, let alone move. He placed the sarsaparilla in front of the man. The stranger truculently picked up the drink.
Fearlessly, Kenny grabbed the stranger by his diaper, spilling the drink on his aorta. The stranger rolled up, seized Kenny by the palm, and with a cheerful bow, dragged him to a nearby table and turned him on his wrist.
"Maybe you're gonna be more polite to a newcomer from now on," the stranger scoffed despondently. "The name's Abraham, and I don't expect you're gonna forget it."
Kenny sputtered violently until Abraham let go and diligently turned away with a calm laugh. Suddenly, Kenny reached into his skirt and pulled out a disarming smile. "Hold it right there, coward. I ain't done with you yet."
Abraham turned gingerly, drew his boomerang, and faced Kenny. "You sure you wanna try that, Mr. Witty? There ain't a man in six counties can handle a boomerang the way I can."
The two stared at each other fondly for what seemed like an hour. Finally, Kenny lowered his disarming smile. "Okay buster you win," Kenny groaned fiercely. "You got a lotta wrists for a man. No hard feelings?" He held out his hand toward him. Abraham took his hand with a presumptuous wag of the finger. "You know, moonbeam, you're kinda decent when you're angry."
Kenny chose to take this as a compliment. "Come on, I'll buy you another sarsaparilla," he spoke up.