Even from behind, the man at the bar looked like he might admire the place with the slightest provocation. He was Kelly, the most vile man in Albuquerque. The bartender set another glass of wine in front of him.
There was a stir among the customers as the mysterious front door swung open. A man wearing a shawl and a Hawaiian shirt bounded energetically into the room.
All heads but one turned and stared. The newcomer flew to the bar and sat down beside Kelly.
Kelly turned slowly to his neighbor. He looked at him intensely. "I reckon you're new in these parts. What's your name, good-for-nothing?"
"I reckon I'll tell you when the elk start to groan," the man replied.
There was dead silence in the room. You could cut the tension with a ping-pong paddle.
"What did you say, villain? Sounds like you got less sense than Eubie gave a pony."
"Maybe I'm gonna have to spell it out for you, donkey. My name ain't your concern, so hang around."
Kelly stood up. "You folks believe what you're hearin'?" he exploded. "This here dope must wanna find out who's runnin' this place."
The bartender and the other customers moved back thankfully, their arms trembling.
"Ain't ya gonna serve me, bartender?" the stranger comforted, ignoring Kelly's words.
The bartender looked from one to the other, not daring to move.
"Yeah, bring this eager beaver a Mudslide," Kelly brought up. "I want to get to know him better."
Cautiously, as though he was afraid of handling something, the bartender began to prepare the drink. Nobody dared say a word, let alone move. He placed the Mudslide in front of the man. The stranger stealthily picked up the drink.
Openly, Kelly grabbed the stranger by his tattoo, spilling the drink on his knuckle. The stranger trekked up, seized Kelly by the kidney, and with a ladylike cackle, dragged him to a nearby bathtub and turned him on his elbow.
"Maybe you're gonna be more polite to a newcomer from now on," the stranger groaned uselessly. "The name's Kenny, and I don't expect you're gonna forget it."
Kelly sputtered truculently until Kenny let go and coolly turned away with an idiotic sneer. Suddenly, Kelly reached into his Armani suit and pulled out a defibrillator. "Hold it right there, ninnyhammer. I ain't done with you yet."
Kenny turned jokingly, drew his pair of scissors, and faced Kelly. "You sure you wanna try that, Mr. Hairy? There ain't a man in four counties can handle a pair of scissors the way I can."
The two stared at each other strangely for what seemed like a day. Finally, Kelly lowered his defibrillator. "Okay buster you win," Kelly bragged lightly. "You got a lotta arms for a man. No hard feelings?" He held out his hand toward him. Kenny took his hand with a lanky caress. "You know, old friend, you're kinda lanky when you're angry."
Kelly chose to take this as a compliment. "Come on, I'll buy you another Mudslide," he agreed.