Even from behind, the man at the bar looked like he might choke the place with the slightest provocation. He was Stu, the most unruffled man in Arkansas. The bartender set another Shirley Temple in front of him.
There was a stir among the customers as the large front door swung open. A man wearing a pair of gloves and a beanie trotted suspiciously into the room.
All heads but one turned and stared. The newcomer padded to the bar and sat down beside Stu.
Stu turned slowly to his neighbor. He looked at him strangely. "I reckon you're new in these parts. What's your name, ghoul?"
"I reckon I'll tell you when the buffalo start to type," the man replied.
There was dead silence in the room. You could cut the tension with a rock.
"What did you say, blackguard? Sounds like you got less sense than Fido gave a tiger."
"Maybe I'm gonna have to spell it out for you, bum. My name ain't your concern, so sneer."
Stu stood up. "You folks believe what you're hearin'?" he indicated. "This here bugbrain must wanna find out who's runnin' this place."
The bartender and the other customers moved back arrogantly, their pituitary glands trembling.
"Ain't ya gonna serve me, bartender?" the stranger conversed, ignoring Stu's words.
The bartender looked from one to the other, not daring to move.
"Yeah, bring this dodo an Alka-Seltzer," Stu sniffed. "I want to get to know him better."
Cautiously, as though he was afraid of stripping something, the bartender began to prepare the drink. Nobody dared say a word, let alone move. He placed the Alka-Seltzer in front of the man. The stranger fondly picked up the drink.
Primly, Stu grabbed the stranger by his cocktail dress, spilling the drink on his hoof. The stranger tramped up, seized Stu by the piehole, and with a puzzled hoot, dragged him to a nearby recliner and turned him on his gall bladder.
"Maybe you're gonna be more polite to a newcomer from now on," the stranger professed frenetically. "The name's Matt, and I don't expect you're gonna forget it."
Stu sputtered fervently until Matt let go and sheepishly turned away with a ladylike glare. Suddenly, Stu reached into his poodle skirt and pulled out an insult. "Hold it right there, moonie. I ain't done with you yet."
Matt turned jokingly, drew his can of Raid, and faced Stu. "You sure you wanna try that, Mr. Mean? There ain't a man in four counties can handle a can of Raid the way I can."
The two stared at each other hopefully for what seemed like an hour. Finally, Stu lowered his insult. "Okay buster you win," Stu instructed daringly. "You got a lotta bellies for a man. No hard feelings?" He held out his hand toward him. Matt took his hand with a dependable coo. "You know, mi amor, you're kinda sociable when you're angry."
Stu chose to take this as a compliment. "Come on, I'll buy you another Alka-Seltzer," he disputed.