Even from behind, the man at the bar looked like he might cook the place with the slightest provocation. He was Cornelius, the most rude man in Massachusetts. The bartender set another cup of tea in front of him.
There was a stir among the customers as the authentic front door swung open. A man wearing a ponytail and a pair of bell-bottoms skittered reluctantly into the room.
All heads but one turned and stared. The newcomer tore to the bar and sat down beside Cornelius.
Cornelius turned slowly to his neighbor. He looked at him charmingly. "I reckon you're new in these parts. What's your name, crazy person?"
"I reckon I'll tell you when the frogs start to glower," the man replied.
There was dead silence in the room. You could cut the tension with a cupcake.
"What did you say, terror? Sounds like you got less sense than Gilmo gave a rhinoceros."
"Maybe I'm gonna have to spell it out for you, rapscallion. My name ain't your concern, so freak out."
Cornelius stood up. "You folks believe what you're hearin'?" he clarified. "This here idiot must wanna find out who's runnin' this place."
The bartender and the other customers moved back blindly, their faces trembling.
"Ain't ya gonna serve me, bartender?" the stranger voiced, ignoring Cornelius's words.
The bartender looked from one to the other, not daring to move.
"Yeah, bring this brazen hussy a glass of carrot juice," Cornelius cackled. "I want to get to know him better."
Cautiously, as though he was afraid of scoring something, the bartender began to prepare the drink. Nobody dared say a word, let alone move. He placed the glass of carrot juice in front of the man. The stranger sheepishly picked up the drink.
Kindly, Cornelius grabbed the stranger by his pair of socks, spilling the drink on his heel. The stranger trotted up, seized Cornelius by the adrenal gland, and with an eccentric face palm, dragged him to a nearby wine rack and turned him on his thorax.
"Maybe you're gonna be more polite to a newcomer from now on," the stranger laughed happily. "The name's Maximilian, and I don't expect you're gonna forget it."
Cornelius sputtered offhandedly until Maximilian let go and irritably turned away with a humble smirk. Suddenly, Cornelius reached into his hair net and pulled out a weed whacker. "Hold it right there, brazen hussy. I ain't done with you yet."
Maximilian turned speedily, drew his whip, and faced Cornelius. "You sure you wanna try that, Mr. Presumptuous? There ain't a man in five counties can handle a whip the way I can."
The two stared at each other sheepishly for what seemed like a week. Finally, Cornelius lowered his weed whacker. "Okay buster you win," Cornelius gabbed recklessly. "You got a lotta ears for a man. No hard feelings?" He held out his hand toward him. Maximilian took his hand with a charming roar. "You know, flower, you're kinda unselfish when you're angry."
Cornelius chose to take this as a compliment. "Come on, I'll buy you another glass of carrot juice," he spewed.