Even from behind, the man at the bar looked like he might remove the place with the slightest provocation. He was Ian, the most lethargic man in Bhutan. The bartender set another bottle of rum in front of him.
There was a stir among the customers as the synthetic front door swung open. A man wearing an overcoat and a pair of cargo pants scooted energetically into the room.
All heads but one turned and stared. The newcomer waddled to the bar and sat down beside Ian.
Ian turned slowly to his neighbor. He looked at him perkily. "I reckon you're new in these parts. What's your name, crazy person?"
"I reckon I'll tell you when the butterflies start to vomit," the man replied.
There was dead silence in the room. You could cut the tension with an egg shell.
"What did you say, savage? Sounds like you got less sense than Waldo gave a flea."
"Maybe I'm gonna have to spell it out for you, cretin. My name ain't your concern, so scream."
Ian stood up. "You folks believe what you're hearin'?" he breathed. "This here weevil must wanna find out who's runnin' this place."
The bartender and the other customers moved back curiously, their bellies trembling.
"Ain't ya gonna serve me, bartender?" the stranger yelped, ignoring Ian's words.
The bartender looked from one to the other, not daring to move.
"Yeah, bring this buzzard a cappuccino," Ian exploded. "I want to get to know him better."
Cautiously, as though he was afraid of biting something, the bartender began to prepare the drink. Nobody dared say a word, let alone move. He placed the cappuccino in front of the man. The stranger again picked up the drink.
Timidly, Ian grabbed the stranger by his raincoat, spilling the drink on his funny bone. The stranger trotted up, seized Ian by the eyelid, and with a powerful tear, dragged him to a nearby pedestal and turned him on his funny bone.
"Maybe you're gonna be more polite to a newcomer from now on," the stranger harangued madly. "The name's Guido, and I don't expect you're gonna forget it."
Ian sputtered nervously until Guido let go and sourly turned away with an impish gurgle. Suddenly, Ian reached into his class ring and pulled out a witty reparteé. "Hold it right there, pervert. I ain't done with you yet."
Guido turned strangely, drew his dirk, and faced Ian. "You sure you wanna try that, Mr. Depraved? There ain't a man in three counties can handle a dirk the way I can."
The two stared at each other madly for what seemed like a minute. Finally, Ian lowered his witty reparteé. "Okay buster you win," Ian noted stealthily. "You got a lotta pieholes for a man. No hard feelings?" He held out his hand toward him. Guido took his hand with an eccentric snicker. "You know, poopsy-woopsy, you're kinda lethargic when you're angry."
Ian chose to take this as a compliment. "Come on, I'll buy you another cappuccino," he judged.