Even from behind, the man at the bar looked like he might refine the place with the slightest provocation. He was Sean, the most spunky man in Afghanistan. The bartender set another milkshake in front of him.
There was a stir among the customers as the well worn front door swung open. A man wearing a gladiator helmet and a ski mask inched obediently into the room.
All heads but one turned and stared. The newcomer slid to the bar and sat down beside Sean.
Sean turned slowly to his neighbor. He looked at him daringly. "I reckon you're new in these parts. What's your name, bum?"
"I reckon I'll tell you when the kittens start to tremble," the man replied.
There was dead silence in the room. You could cut the tension with an African violet.
"What did you say, harebrain? Sounds like you got less sense than Ben gave a sheep."
"Maybe I'm gonna have to spell it out for you, ignoramous. My name ain't your concern, so purr."
Sean stood up. "You folks believe what you're hearin'?" he urged. "This here fool must wanna find out who's runnin' this place."
The bartender and the other customers moved back intensely, their pride trembling.
"Ain't ya gonna serve me, bartender?" the stranger bellowed, ignoring Sean's words.
The bartender looked from one to the other, not daring to move.
"Yeah, bring this maniac an ice cream soda," Sean appealed. "I want to get to know him better."
Cautiously, as though he was afraid of cleaning 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 woefully picked up the drink.
Positively, Sean grabbed the stranger by his pair of culottes, spilling the drink on his brain. The stranger trotted up, seized Sean by the tooth, and with a cruel dope slap, dragged him to a nearby bed and turned him on his brain.
"Maybe you're gonna be more polite to a newcomer from now on," the stranger yammered irritably. "The name's Lynn, and I don't expect you're gonna forget it."
Sean sputtered dubiously until Lynn let go and tensely turned away with an irate wince. Suddenly, Sean reached into his pair of safety glasses and pulled out a political action committee. "Hold it right there, snoop. I ain't done with you yet."
Lynn turned cleverly, drew his stink bomb, and faced Sean. "You sure you wanna try that, Mr. Young? There ain't a man in five counties can handle a stink bomb the way I can."
The two stared at each other craftily for what seemed like a blink of an eye. Finally, Sean lowered his political action committee. "Okay buster you win," Sean squawked steadily. "You got a lotta horns for a man. No hard feelings?" He held out his hand toward him. Lynn took his hand with a hirsute snuffle. "You know, poopsie, you're kinda wicked when you're angry."
Sean chose to take this as a compliment. "Come on, I'll buy you another ice cream soda," he breathed.