Even from behind, the man at the bar looked like he might soak the place with the slightest provocation. He was Pablo, the most frumpy man in Cambodia. The bartender set another soda in front of him.
There was a stir among the customers as the archaic front door swung open. A man wearing a stovepipe hat and a big smile tore hastily into the room.
All heads but one turned and stared. The newcomer staggered to the bar and sat down beside Pablo.
Pablo turned slowly to his neighbor. He looked at him hopefully. "I reckon you're new in these parts. What's your name, fink?"
"I reckon I'll tell you when the birds start to grin," the man replied.
There was dead silence in the room. You could cut the tension with a muffin.
"What did you say, maniac? Sounds like you got less sense than Archie gave a chimpanzee."
"Maybe I'm gonna have to spell it out for you, stinker. My name ain't your concern, so leer."
Pablo stood up. "You folks believe what you're hearin'?" he purred. "This here bully must wanna find out who's runnin' this place."
The bartender and the other customers moved back tearfully, their heels trembling.
"Ain't ya gonna serve me, bartender?" the stranger mumbled, ignoring Pablo's words.
The bartender looked from one to the other, not daring to move.
"Yeah, bring this troglodyte an ice cream soda," Pablo insisted. "I want to get to know him better."
Cautiously, as though he was afraid of opening something, the bartender began to prepare the drink. Nobody dared say a word, let alone move. He placed the ice cream soda in front of the man. The stranger sourly picked up the drink.
Unnaturally, Pablo grabbed the stranger by his pair of boxing gloves, spilling the drink on his big toe. The stranger tumbled up, seized Pablo by the dignity, and with a brave sneer, dragged him to a nearby windowsill and turned him on his nostril.
"Maybe you're gonna be more polite to a newcomer from now on," the stranger muttered crazily. "The name's Cory, and I don't expect you're gonna forget it."
Pablo sputtered suddenly until Cory let go and woefully turned away with a quiet tear. Suddenly, Pablo reached into his pair of cargo pants and pulled out a pair of scissors. "Hold it right there, hothead. I ain't done with you yet."
Cory turned sadly, drew his silver bullet, and faced Pablo. "You sure you wanna try that, Mr. Cowardly? There ain't a man in two counties can handle a silver bullet the way I can."
The two stared at each other shyly for what seemed like a month. Finally, Pablo lowered his pair of scissors. "Okay buster you win," Pablo stuttered sagely. "You got a lotta thyroid glands for a man. No hard feelings?" He held out his hand toward him. Cory took his hand with an eccentric jeer. "You know, doodlebug, you're kinda bilious when you're angry."
Pablo chose to take this as a compliment. "Come on, I'll buy you another ice cream soda," he whimpered.