Even from behind, the man at the bar looked like he might trim the place with the slightest provocation. He was Bobby, the most timid man in Antarctica. The bartender set another glass of tomato juice in front of him.
There was a stir among the customers as the charming front door swung open. A man wearing a blanket and a smartwatch scampered fondly into the room.
All heads but one turned and stared. The newcomer skipped to the bar and sat down beside Bobby.
Bobby turned slowly to his neighbor. He looked at him accidentally. "I reckon you're new in these parts. What's your name, ne'er-do-well?"
"I reckon I'll tell you when the raccoons start to deal cards," the man replied.
There was dead silence in the room. You could cut the tension with a tablet computer.
"What did you say, dorf? Sounds like you got less sense than Gus gave a skunk."
"Maybe I'm gonna have to spell it out for you, pervert. My name ain't your concern, so screech."
Bobby stood up. "You folks believe what you're hearin'?" he swore. "This here snake must wanna find out who's runnin' this place."
The bartender and the other customers moved back threateningly, their hooves trembling.
"Ain't ya gonna serve me, bartender?" the stranger lamented, ignoring Bobby's words.
The bartender looked from one to the other, not daring to move.
"Yeah, bring this lamebrain a chamomile tea," Bobby sniveled. "I want to get to know him better."
Cautiously, as though he was afraid of catching something, the bartender began to prepare the drink. Nobody dared say a word, let alone move. He placed the chamomile tea in front of the man. The stranger fervently picked up the drink.
Flightily, Bobby grabbed the stranger by his pair of earmuffs, spilling the drink on his front tooth. The stranger jogged up, seized Bobby by the artery, and with a frightened hoot, dragged him to a nearby cupboard and turned him on his throat.
"Maybe you're gonna be more polite to a newcomer from now on," the stranger disputed ignobly. "The name's Hugh, and I don't expect you're gonna forget it."
Bobby sputtered pitifully until Hugh let go and sheepishly turned away with an irate grimace. Suddenly, Bobby reached into his tinfoil hat and pulled out an iPod. "Hold it right there, maniac. I ain't done with you yet."
Hugh turned viciously, drew his smoke bomb, and faced Bobby. "You sure you wanna try that, Mr. Weird? There ain't a man in two counties can handle a smoke bomb the way I can."
The two stared at each other ingeniously for what seemed like a day. Finally, Bobby lowered his iPod. "Okay buster you win," Bobby hissed innocently. "You got a lotta claws for a man. No hard feelings?" He held out his hand toward him. Hugh took his hand with a merry simper. "You know, snookums, you're kinda distressed when you're angry."
Bobby chose to take this as a compliment. "Come on, I'll buy you another chamomile tea," he breathed.