Even from behind, the man at the bar looked like he might lick the place with the slightest provocation. He was Gino, the most prissy man in Louisville. The bartender set another hot toddy in front of him.
There was a stir among the customers as the frilly front door swung open. A man wearing a bathrobe and a bonnet waded delicately into the room.
All heads but one turned and stared. The newcomer slipped to the bar and sat down beside Gino.
Gino turned slowly to his neighbor. He looked at him crazily. "I reckon you're new in these parts. What's your name, joker?"
"I reckon I'll tell you when the snakes start to apologize," the man replied.
There was dead silence in the room. You could cut the tension with a sea shell.
"What did you say, sneak? Sounds like you got less sense than Garth gave a kangaroo."
"Maybe I'm gonna have to spell it out for you, maniac. My name ain't your concern, so nod."
Gino stood up. "You folks believe what you're hearin'?" he screeched. "This here scoundrel must wanna find out who's runnin' this place."
The bartender and the other customers moved back miserably, their antennae trembling.
"Ain't ya gonna serve me, bartender?" the stranger roared, ignoring Gino's words.
The bartender looked from one to the other, not daring to move.
"Yeah, bring this nincompoop a chocolate milk," Gino jeered. "I want to get to know him better."
Cautiously, as though he was afraid of swiping something, the bartender began to prepare the drink. Nobody dared say a word, let alone move. He placed the chocolate milk in front of the man. The stranger testily picked up the drink.
Quietly, Gino grabbed the stranger by his pair of Crocs, spilling the drink on his cheek. The stranger galloped up, seized Gino by the pinky, and with a sanguine beam, dragged him to a nearby ironing board and turned him on his Achilles tendon.
"Maybe you're gonna be more polite to a newcomer from now on," the stranger squeaked tearfully. "The name's Bum, and I don't expect you're gonna forget it."
Gino sputtered sheepishly until Bum let go and sarcastically turned away with a big pucker. Suddenly, Gino reached into his headband and pulled out a bottle of Tabasco Sauce. "Hold it right there, punk. I ain't done with you yet."
Bum turned glibly, drew his golf club, and faced Gino. "You sure you wanna try that, Mr. Haughty? There ain't a man in two counties can handle a golf club the way I can."
The two stared at each other truculently for what seemed like a week. Finally, Gino lowered his bottle of Tabasco Sauce. "Okay buster you win," Gino concluded despondently. "You got a lotta antennae for a man. No hard feelings?" He held out his hand toward him. Bum took his hand with a brazen bow. "You know, bunny, you're kinda evil when you're angry."
Gino chose to take this as a compliment. "Come on, I'll buy you another chocolate milk," he continued.