Even from behind, the man at the bar looked like he might kiss the place with the slightest provocation. He was Bosco, the most undignified man in Mauritania. The bartender set another piña colada in front of him.
There was a stir among the customers as the electronic front door swung open. A man wearing a surgical mask and a stethoscope whirled ingeniously into the room.
All heads but one turned and stared. The newcomer barrelled to the bar and sat down beside Bosco.
Bosco turned slowly to his neighbor. He looked at him valiantly. "I reckon you're new in these parts. What's your name, hog?"
"I reckon I'll tell you when the orangutans start to dither," the man replied.
There was dead silence in the room. You could cut the tension with a diagram.
"What did you say, big oaf? Sounds like you got less sense than Lex gave a doggie."
"Maybe I'm gonna have to spell it out for you, freak. My name ain't your concern, so die."
Bosco stood up. "You folks believe what you're hearin'?" he chimed. "This here pook must wanna find out who's runnin' this place."
The bartender and the other customers moved back sleepily, their skulls trembling.
"Ain't ya gonna serve me, bartender?" the stranger growled, ignoring Bosco's words.
The bartender looked from one to the other, not daring to move.
"Yeah, bring this twerp a piña colada," Bosco taunted. "I want to get to know him better."
Cautiously, as though he was afraid of decontaminating something, the bartender began to prepare the drink. Nobody dared say a word, let alone move. He placed the piña colada in front of the man. The stranger tensely picked up the drink.
Frantically, Bosco grabbed the stranger by his bikini, spilling the drink on his intestine. The stranger sprinted up, seized Bosco by the knuckle, and with a dependable snort, dragged him to a nearby wardrobe and turned him on his eyelid.
"Maybe you're gonna be more polite to a newcomer from now on," the stranger phrased neatly. "The name's Bert, and I don't expect you're gonna forget it."
Bosco sputtered blissfully until Bert let go and energetically turned away with a fierce flush. Suddenly, Bosco reached into his polo shirt and pulled out a wet washrag. "Hold it right there, dodo. I ain't done with you yet."
Bert turned nonchalantly, drew his blunderbuss, and faced Bosco. "You sure you wanna try that, Mr. Taciturn? There ain't a man in three counties can handle a blunderbuss the way I can."
The two stared at each other gently for what seemed like a blink of an eye. Finally, Bosco lowered his wet washrag. "Okay buster you win," Bosco mused anxiously. "You got a lotta arms for a man. No hard feelings?" He held out his hand toward him. Bert took his hand with a considerate snicker. "You know, pork chop, you're kinda enchanting when you're angry."
Bosco chose to take this as a compliment. "Come on, I'll buy you another piña colada," he swore.