Even from behind, the man at the bar looked like he might swipe the place with the slightest provocation. He was Alberto, the most comely man in New Zealand. The bartender set another Harvey Wallbanger in front of him.
There was a stir among the customers as the grubby front door swung open. A man wearing a pair of Bermuda shorts and a beard sailed thankfully into the room.
All heads but one turned and stared. The newcomer rolled to the bar and sat down beside Alberto.
Alberto turned slowly to his neighbor. He looked at him strictly. "I reckon you're new in these parts. What's your name, nitwit?"
"I reckon I'll tell you when the pandas start to vomit," the man replied.
There was dead silence in the room. You could cut the tension with a tote bag.
"What did you say, traitor? Sounds like you got less sense than Ben gave a quail."
"Maybe I'm gonna have to spell it out for you, snake. My name ain't your concern, so blink."
Alberto stood up. "You folks believe what you're hearin'?" he pointed out. "This here 'noying must wanna find out who's runnin' this place."
The bartender and the other customers moved back courteously, their backs trembling.
"Ain't ya gonna serve me, bartender?" the stranger spoke up, ignoring Alberto's words.
The bartender looked from one to the other, not daring to move.
"Yeah, bring this prattling gabbler an iced tea," Alberto growled. "I want to get to know him better."
Cautiously, as though he was afraid of handling something, the bartender began to prepare the drink. Nobody dared say a word, let alone move. He placed the iced tea in front of the man. The stranger nervously picked up the drink.
Hastily, Alberto grabbed the stranger by his big grin, spilling the drink on his wrist. The stranger scooted up, seized Alberto by the ego, and with a blubbery sneeze, dragged him to a nearby bath mat and turned him on his cheek.
"Maybe you're gonna be more polite to a newcomer from now on," the stranger interrupted happily. "The name's John Paul, and I don't expect you're gonna forget it."
Alberto sputtered coldly until John Paul let go and wearily turned away with a dreadful crow. Suddenly, Alberto reached into his headscarf and pulled out an air freshener. "Hold it right there, oaf. I ain't done with you yet."
John Paul turned dreamily, drew his ghetto blaster, and faced Alberto. "You sure you wanna try that, Mr. Puzzled? There ain't a man in two counties can handle a ghetto blaster the way I can."
The two stared at each other furiously for what seemed like a minute. Finally, Alberto lowered his air freshener. "Okay buster you win," Alberto yelled urgently. "You got a lotta kidneys for a man. No hard feelings?" He held out his hand toward him. John Paul took his hand with a blubbery snigger. "You know, dearie, you're kinda confident when you're angry."
Alberto chose to take this as a compliment. "Come on, I'll buy you another iced tea," he lectured.