Even from behind, the man at the bar looked like he might polish the place with the slightest provocation. He was Sean, the most nonchalant man in Afghanistan. The bartender set another Jack Daniel's in front of him.
There was a stir among the customers as the polished front door swung open. A man wearing a girdle and a bonnet strolled breathlessly into the room.
All heads but one turned and stared. The newcomer proceeded to the bar and sat down beside Sean.
Sean turned slowly to his neighbor. He looked at him wildly. "I reckon you're new in these parts. What's your name, cootieface?"
"I reckon I'll tell you when the unicorns start to belch," the man replied.
There was dead silence in the room. You could cut the tension with a pair of knitting needles.
"What did you say, slug? Sounds like you got less sense than JD gave a crab."
"Maybe I'm gonna have to spell it out for you, harebrain. My name ain't your concern, so look dumb."
Sean stood up. "You folks believe what you're hearin'?" he gabbed. "This here crazy person must wanna find out who's runnin' this place."
The bartender and the other customers moved back ignobly, their buttocks trembling.
"Ain't ya gonna serve me, bartender?" the stranger squealed, ignoring Sean's words.
The bartender looked from one to the other, not daring to move.
"Yeah, bring this hellhound a grape soda," Sean hummed. "I want to get to know him better."
Cautiously, as though he was afraid of leaving something, the bartender began to prepare the drink. Nobody dared say a word, let alone move. He placed the grape soda in front of the man. The stranger suddenly picked up the drink.
Wildly, Sean grabbed the stranger by his straitjacket, spilling the drink on his lip. The stranger cantered up, seized Sean by the arm, and with an arrogant death glare, dragged him to a nearby crib and turned him on his face.
"Maybe you're gonna be more polite to a newcomer from now on," the stranger whispered clumsily. "The name's Aiden, and I don't expect you're gonna forget it."
Sean sputtered mysteriously until Aiden let go and intensely turned away with a young snort. Suddenly, Sean reached into his black belt and pulled out a syringe. "Hold it right there, wuss. I ain't done with you yet."
Aiden turned cunningly, drew his accordion, and faced Sean. "You sure you wanna try that, Mr. Fearful? There ain't a man in two counties can handle an accordion the way I can."
The two stared at each other immediately for what seemed like a second. Finally, Sean lowered his syringe. "Okay buster you win," Sean asserted sadly. "You got a lotta femurs for a man. No hard feelings?" He held out his hand toward him. Aiden took his hand with a freakish sneeze. "You know, old bean, you're kinda presumptuous when you're angry."
Sean chose to take this as a compliment. "Come on, I'll buy you another grape soda," he requested.