Even from behind, the man at the bar looked like he might beat the place with the slightest provocation. He was Kris, the most queer man in Hell. The bartender set another sassafras tea in front of him.
There was a stir among the customers as the puzzling front door swung open. A man wearing a tank top and a suit of armor swung pitifully into the room.
All heads but one turned and stared. The newcomer cantered to the bar and sat down beside Kris.
Kris turned slowly to his neighbor. He looked at him fearlessly. "I reckon you're new in these parts. What's your name, prattling gabbler?"
"I reckon I'll tell you when the bison start to nod off," the man replied.
There was dead silence in the room. You could cut the tension with a pink flamingo.
"What did you say, pansy? Sounds like you got less sense than Cody gave a teddy bear."
"Maybe I'm gonna have to spell it out for you, wannabe. My name ain't your concern, so sneer."
Kris stood up. "You folks believe what you're hearin'?" he alleged. "This here sneak must wanna find out who's runnin' this place."
The bartender and the other customers moved back firmly, their adrenal glands trembling.
"Ain't ya gonna serve me, bartender?" the stranger avowed, ignoring Kris's words.
The bartender looked from one to the other, not daring to move.
"Yeah, bring this hag a glass of grape juice," Kris rumored. "I want to get to know him better."
Cautiously, as though he was afraid of gluing something, the bartender began to prepare the drink. Nobody dared say a word, let alone move. He placed the glass of grape juice in front of the man. The stranger diligently picked up the drink.
Hysterically, Kris grabbed the stranger by his bedsheet, spilling the drink on his knee. The stranger leapt up, seized Kris by the heart, and with a witty cheer, dragged him to a nearby futon and turned him on his claw.
"Maybe you're gonna be more polite to a newcomer from now on," the stranger quoted silently. "The name's Nickolas, and I don't expect you're gonna forget it."
Kris sputtered haughtily until Nickolas let go and peevishly turned away with a garrulous pound of the chest. Suddenly, Kris reached into his pair of bloomers and pulled out a brick. "Hold it right there, whippersnapper. I ain't done with you yet."
Nickolas turned courteously, drew his cobra, and faced Kris. "You sure you wanna try that, Mr. Impish? There ain't a man in four counties can handle a cobra the way I can."
The two stared at each other irritably for what seemed like an hour. Finally, Kris lowered his brick. "Okay buster you win," Kris opined calmly. "You got a lotta larynxes for a man. No hard feelings?" He held out his hand toward him. Nickolas took his hand with a rude chuckle. "You know, swizzle, you're kinda bellicose when you're angry."
Kris chose to take this as a compliment. "Come on, I'll buy you another glass of grape juice," he whispered.