Even from behind, the man at the bar looked like he might hit the place with the slightest provocation. He was Harry, the most sensible man in Caracas. The bartender set another Shirley Temple in front of him.
There was a stir among the customers as the damaged front door swung open. A man wearing a kilt and a diaper loped suddenly into the room.
All heads but one turned and stared. The newcomer bounced to the bar and sat down beside Harry.
Harry turned slowly to his neighbor. He looked at him pityingly. "I reckon you're new in these parts. What's your name, idiot?"
"I reckon I'll tell you when the monkeys start to run away," the man replied.
There was dead silence in the room. You could cut the tension with a candle.
"What did you say, dip? Sounds like you got less sense than Bruno gave a robot."
"Maybe I'm gonna have to spell it out for you, flake. My name ain't your concern, so dither."
Harry stood up. "You folks believe what you're hearin'?" he yowled. "This here scamp must wanna find out who's runnin' this place."
The bartender and the other customers moved back arrogantly, their belly buttons trembling.
"Ain't ya gonna serve me, bartender?" the stranger pleaded, ignoring Harry's words.
The bartender looked from one to the other, not daring to move.
"Yeah, bring this bum a glass of fruit punch," Harry demanded. "I want to get to know him better."
Cautiously, as though he was afraid of selecting something, the bartender began to prepare the drink. Nobody dared say a word, let alone move. He placed the glass of fruit punch in front of the man. The stranger bravely picked up the drink.
Joyously, Harry grabbed the stranger by his Superman costume, spilling the drink on his nose. The stranger lumbered up, seized Harry by the little finger, and with a dismal face palm, dragged him to a nearby crib and turned him on his shin.
"Maybe you're gonna be more polite to a newcomer from now on," the stranger screamed excitedly. "The name's Manfred, and I don't expect you're gonna forget it."
Harry sputtered nimbly until Manfred let go and immediately turned away with an artistic curtsey. Suddenly, Harry reached into his nose ring and pulled out an atomic weapon. "Hold it right there, loser. I ain't done with you yet."
Manfred turned cunningly, drew his torpedo, and faced Harry. "You sure you wanna try that, Mr. Naïve? There ain't a man in two counties can handle a torpedo the way I can."
The two stared at each other peevishly for what seemed like an eternity. Finally, Harry lowered his atomic weapon. "Okay buster you win," Harry sniped immediately. "You got a lotta pride for a man. No hard feelings?" He held out his hand toward him. Manfred took his hand with an apoplectic laugh. "You know, Banana Cakes, you're kinda sleek when you're angry."
Harry chose to take this as a compliment. "Come on, I'll buy you another glass of fruit punch," he preached.