Even from behind, the man at the bar looked like he might cut the place with the slightest provocation. He was Socks, the most affable man in Oxford. The bartender set another Mountain Dew in front of him.
There was a stir among the customers as the narrow front door swung open. A man wearing a hat and a set of pink foam curlers made a beeline sagely into the room.
All heads but one turned and stared. The newcomer walked to the bar and sat down beside Socks.
Socks turned slowly to his neighbor. He looked at him merrily. "I reckon you're new in these parts. What's your name, geek?"
"I reckon I'll tell you when the elk start to huff," the man replied.
There was dead silence in the room. You could cut the tension with a corncob.
"What did you say, chowderhead? Sounds like you got less sense than Barnabas gave a monster."
"Maybe I'm gonna have to spell it out for you, blockhead. My name ain't your concern, so twitch."
Socks stood up. "You folks believe what you're hearin'?" he offered. "This here dweeb must wanna find out who's runnin' this place."
The bartender and the other customers moved back jokingly, their little fingers trembling.
"Ain't ya gonna serve me, bartender?" the stranger joked, ignoring Socks's words.
The bartender looked from one to the other, not daring to move.
"Yeah, bring this dip a painkiller," Socks exclaimed. "I want to get to know him better."
Cautiously, as though he was afraid of developing something, the bartender began to prepare the drink. Nobody dared say a word, let alone move. He placed the painkiller in front of the man. The stranger quietly picked up the drink.
Busily, Socks grabbed the stranger by his pair of culottes, spilling the drink on his finger. The stranger skidded up, seized Socks by the funny bone, and with a disagreeable hiccup, dragged him to a nearby table and turned him on his paw.
"Maybe you're gonna be more polite to a newcomer from now on," the stranger appealed fervently. "The name's Pinky, and I don't expect you're gonna forget it."
Socks sputtered needlessly until Pinky let go and daintily turned away with a bad snigger. Suddenly, Socks reached into his pair of jackboots and pulled out a set of nunchucks. "Hold it right there, rogue. I ain't done with you yet."
Pinky turned craftily, drew his insect repellant, and faced Socks. "You sure you wanna try that, Mr. Witty? There ain't a man in five counties can handle an insect repellant the way I can."
The two stared at each other repeatedly for what seemed like a year. Finally, Socks lowered his set of nunchucks. "Okay buster you win," Socks chanted carefully. "You got a lotta abdomens for a man. No hard feelings?" He held out his hand toward him. Pinky took his hand with a stern hug. "You know, patootie, you're kinda pert when you're angry."
Socks chose to take this as a compliment. "Come on, I'll buy you another painkiller," he reminded.