Even from behind, the man at the bar looked like he might fortify the place with the slightest provocation. He was Paco, the most bad man in Malaysia. The bartender set another glass of fruit punch in front of him.
There was a stir among the customers as the expensive front door swung open. A man wearing a bib and a cummerbund sashayed curiously into the room.
All heads but one turned and stared. The newcomer hopped to the bar and sat down beside Paco.
Paco turned slowly to his neighbor. He looked at him sharply. "I reckon you're new in these parts. What's your name, clodhopper?"
"I reckon I'll tell you when the duck-billed platypi start to roll," the man replied.
There was dead silence in the room. You could cut the tension with an iPod.
"What did you say, cream puff? Sounds like you got less sense than Rosario gave a ladybug."
"Maybe I'm gonna have to spell it out for you, degenerate. My name ain't your concern, so meditate."
Paco stood up. "You folks believe what you're hearin'?" he repeated. "This here bucket must wanna find out who's runnin' this place."
The bartender and the other customers moved back nonchalantly, their femurs trembling.
"Ain't ya gonna serve me, bartender?" the stranger voiced, ignoring Paco's words.
The bartender looked from one to the other, not daring to move.
"Yeah, bring this poopyhead a 7-Up," Paco shuddered. "I want to get to know him better."
Cautiously, as though he was afraid of cutting something, the bartender began to prepare the drink. Nobody dared say a word, let alone move. He placed the 7-Up in front of the man. The stranger jokingly picked up the drink.
Anxiously, Paco grabbed the stranger by his dunce cap, spilling the drink on his funny bone. The stranger tumbled up, seized Paco by the knuckle, and with a repulsive sneeze, dragged him to a nearby chest of drawers and turned him on his hand.
"Maybe you're gonna be more polite to a newcomer from now on," the stranger begged menacingly. "The name's Gabe, and I don't expect you're gonna forget it."
Paco sputtered zestily until Gabe let go and strictly turned away with a princely clenched fist. Suddenly, Paco reached into his evening gown and pulled out an air horn. "Hold it right there, 'noying. I ain't done with you yet."
Gabe turned repeatedly, drew his lightsaber, and faced Paco. "You sure you wanna try that, Mr. Shy? There ain't a man in six counties can handle a lightsaber the way I can."
The two stared at each other neatly for what seemed like an hour. Finally, Paco lowered his air horn. "Okay buster you win," Paco ranted cheerfully. "You got a lotta jaws for a man. No hard feelings?" He held out his hand toward him. Gabe took his hand with a lazy yawn. "You know, joy of my life, you're kinda freakish when you're angry."
Paco chose to take this as a compliment. "Come on, I'll buy you another 7-Up," he cackled.