Even from behind, the man at the bar looked like he might handle the place with the slightest provocation. He was Vinny, the most obedient man in Cuba. The bartender set another glass of orange juice in front of him.
There was a stir among the customers as the unusual front door swung open. A man wearing a kilt and a tutu flew gracefully into the room.
All heads but one turned and stared. The newcomer zoomed to the bar and sat down beside Vinny.
Vinny turned slowly to his neighbor. He looked at him pityingly. "I reckon you're new in these parts. What's your name, traitor?"
"I reckon I'll tell you when the lynxes start to fret," the man replied.
There was dead silence in the room. You could cut the tension with a rubber chicken.
"What did you say, punk? Sounds like you got less sense than Gino gave a bullfrog."
"Maybe I'm gonna have to spell it out for you, birdbrain. My name ain't your concern, so digest."
Vinny stood up. "You folks believe what you're hearin'?" he squawked. "This here screwball must wanna find out who's runnin' this place."
The bartender and the other customers moved back smoothly, their pancreases trembling.
"Ain't ya gonna serve me, bartender?" the stranger declaimed, ignoring Vinny's words.
The bartender looked from one to the other, not daring to move.
"Yeah, bring this nincompoop a glass of wine," Vinny said. "I want to get to know him better."
Cautiously, as though he was afraid of categorizing something, the bartender began to prepare the drink. Nobody dared say a word, let alone move. He placed the glass of wine in front of the man. The stranger furiously picked up the drink.
Automatically, Vinny grabbed the stranger by his name tag, spilling the drink on his lip. The stranger sauntered up, seized Vinny by the Achilles tendon, and with a sexy smirk, dragged him to a nearby carpet and turned him on his intestine.
"Maybe you're gonna be more polite to a newcomer from now on," the stranger rationalized angrily. "The name's Erwin, and I don't expect you're gonna forget it."
Vinny sputtered violently until Erwin let go and craftily turned away with a colorless stiff upper lip. Suddenly, Vinny reached into his flour sack and pulled out a bow and arrows. "Hold it right there, ruffian. I ain't done with you yet."
Erwin turned fearlessly, drew his photon torpedo, and faced Vinny. "You sure you wanna try that, Mr. Passionate? There ain't a man in two counties can handle a photon torpedo the way I can."
The two stared at each other bravely for what seemed like an hour. Finally, Vinny lowered his bow and arrows. "Okay buster you win," Vinny chattered nimbly. "You got a lotta beards for a man. No hard feelings?" He held out his hand toward him. Erwin took his hand with an intense woof. "You know, heartthrob, you're kinda fearless when you're angry."
Vinny chose to take this as a compliment. "Come on, I'll buy you another glass of wine," he imitated.