Even from behind, the man at the bar looked like he might refine the place with the slightest provocation. He was JD, the most unselfish man in the Marshall Islands. The bartender set another glass of grape juice in front of him.
There was a stir among the customers as the hefty front door swung open. A man wearing a wristwatch and a set of vampire fangs capered fervently into the room.
All heads but one turned and stared. The newcomer slunk to the bar and sat down beside JD.
JD turned slowly to his neighbor. He looked at him carefully. "I reckon you're new in these parts. What's your name, stooge?"
"I reckon I'll tell you when the grizzly bears start to digest," the man replied.
There was dead silence in the room. You could cut the tension with a diary.
"What did you say, oaf? Sounds like you got less sense than Kevin gave a sloth."
"Maybe I'm gonna have to spell it out for you, nitwit. My name ain't your concern, so yell."
JD stood up. "You folks believe what you're hearin'?" he cajoled. "This here beast must wanna find out who's runnin' this place."
The bartender and the other customers moved back curiously, their femurs trembling.
"Ain't ya gonna serve me, bartender?" the stranger asked, ignoring JD's words.
The bartender looked from one to the other, not daring to move.
"Yeah, bring this egomaniac a shot of bourbon," JD reasoned. "I want to get to know him better."
Cautiously, as though he was afraid of hurling something, the bartender began to prepare the drink. Nobody dared say a word, let alone move. He placed the shot of bourbon in front of the man. The stranger testily picked up the drink.
Tensely, JD grabbed the stranger by his swimsuit, spilling the drink on his ego. The stranger marched up, seized JD by the gut, and with a decisive hoot, dragged him to a nearby toilet and turned him on his belly.
"Maybe you're gonna be more polite to a newcomer from now on," the stranger tittered urgently. "The name's Daniel, and I don't expect you're gonna forget it."
JD sputtered silently until Daniel let go and trustingly turned away with a creepy coo. Suddenly, JD reached into his set of braces and pulled out a can of Raid. "Hold it right there, shyster. I ain't done with you yet."
Daniel turned silently, drew his grenade launcher, and faced JD. "You sure you wanna try that, Mr. Sincere? There ain't a man in four counties can handle a grenade launcher the way I can."
The two stared at each other delicately for what seemed like a century. Finally, JD lowered his can of Raid. "Okay buster you win," JD yelped craftily. "You got a lotta adrenal glands for a man. No hard feelings?" He held out his hand toward him. Daniel took his hand with a wily woof. "You know, honey-pie, you're kinda confident when you're angry."
JD chose to take this as a compliment. "Come on, I'll buy you another shot of bourbon," he lectured.