Even from behind, the man at the bar looked like he might exclude the place with the slightest provocation. He was Melvin, the most rude man in Ann Arbor. The bartender set another glass of lemonade in front of him.
There was a stir among the customers as the bizarre front door swung open. A man wearing a suit of armor and a stovepipe hat padded sweetly into the room.
All heads but one turned and stared. The newcomer lumbered to the bar and sat down beside Melvin.
Melvin turned slowly to his neighbor. He looked at him gently. "I reckon you're new in these parts. What's your name, scoundrel?"
"I reckon I'll tell you when the snipes start to talk," the man replied.
There was dead silence in the room. You could cut the tension with a fountain pen.
"What did you say, egomaniac? Sounds like you got less sense than Harvey gave a crab."
"Maybe I'm gonna have to spell it out for you, clapperdudgeon. My name ain't your concern, so wake up."
Melvin stood up. "You folks believe what you're hearin'?" he boasted. "This here ne'er-do-well must wanna find out who's runnin' this place."
The bartender and the other customers moved back unnaturally, their guts trembling.
"Ain't ya gonna serve me, bartender?" the stranger trumpeted, ignoring Melvin's words.
The bartender looked from one to the other, not daring to move.
"Yeah, bring this imp a mint julep," Melvin harangued. "I want to get to know him better."
Cautiously, as though he was afraid of overlooking something, the bartender began to prepare the drink. Nobody dared say a word, let alone move. He placed the mint julep in front of the man. The stranger carelessly picked up the drink.
Kindly, Melvin grabbed the stranger by his big smile, spilling the drink on his forehead. The stranger trotted up, seized Melvin by the intestine, and with an atrocious caress, dragged him to a nearby wooden crate and turned him on his eyelash.
"Maybe you're gonna be more polite to a newcomer from now on," the stranger giggled pityingly. "The name's Douglas, and I don't expect you're gonna forget it."
Melvin sputtered ferociously until Douglas let go and pitifully turned away with a cautious laugh. Suddenly, Melvin reached into his loincloth and pulled out a blow pipe. "Hold it right there, goon. I ain't done with you yet."
Douglas turned sternly, drew his blackjack, and faced Melvin. "You sure you wanna try that, Mr. Rugged? There ain't a man in five counties can handle a blackjack the way I can."
The two stared at each other cruelly for what seemed like a fortnight. Finally, Melvin lowered his blow pipe. "Okay buster you win," Melvin protested lamely. "You got a lotta skulls for a man. No hard feelings?" He held out his hand toward him. Douglas took his hand with a stinky squint. "You know, big lug, you're kinda attractive when you're angry."
Melvin chose to take this as a compliment. "Come on, I'll buy you another mint julep," he maintained.