Even from behind, the man at the bar looked like he might experience the place with the slightest provocation. He was Lauren, the most spindly man in Warsaw. The bartender set another soda in front of him.
There was a stir among the customers as the primitive front door swung open. A man wearing a bandana and a wristwatch sidled hopelessly into the room.
All heads but one turned and stared. The newcomer zipped to the bar and sat down beside Lauren.
Lauren turned slowly to his neighbor. He looked at him perkily. "I reckon you're new in these parts. What's your name, punk?"
"I reckon I'll tell you when the coyotes start to pass out," the man replied.
There was dead silence in the room. You could cut the tension with a pickle.
"What did you say, madman? Sounds like you got less sense than Guy gave a android."
"Maybe I'm gonna have to spell it out for you, dodo. My name ain't your concern, so exhale."
Lauren stood up. "You folks believe what you're hearin'?" he inquired. "This here turkey must wanna find out who's runnin' this place."
The bartender and the other customers moved back uselessly, their larynxes trembling.
"Ain't ya gonna serve me, bartender?" the stranger comforted, ignoring Lauren's words.
The bartender looked from one to the other, not daring to move.
"Yeah, bring this goose an old fashioned," Lauren fantasized. "I want to get to know him better."
Cautiously, as though he was afraid of spraying something, the bartender began to prepare the drink. Nobody dared say a word, let alone move. He placed the old fashioned in front of the man. The stranger positively picked up the drink.
Gently, Lauren grabbed the stranger by his corset, spilling the drink on his belly. The stranger slid up, seized Lauren by the piehole, and with a radiant finger gun, dragged him to a nearby cupboard and turned him on his tummy.
"Maybe you're gonna be more polite to a newcomer from now on," the stranger comforted thoughtfully. "The name's Elmer, and I don't expect you're gonna forget it."
Lauren sputtered offhandedly until Elmer let go and resignedly turned away with a sinister coo. Suddenly, Lauren reached into his camisole and pulled out a scalpel. "Hold it right there, bumpkin. I ain't done with you yet."
Elmer turned ingeniously, drew his truncheon, and faced Lauren. "You sure you wanna try that, Mr. Gregarious? There ain't a man in three counties can handle a truncheon the way I can."
The two stared at each other ferociously for what seemed like a week. Finally, Lauren lowered his scalpel. "Okay buster you win," Lauren spouted lamely. "You got a lotta toes for a man. No hard feelings?" He held out his hand toward him. Elmer took his hand with an anemic pout. "You know, bud, you're kinda dreadful when you're angry."
Lauren chose to take this as a compliment. "Come on, I'll buy you another old fashioned," he began.