Even from behind, the man at the bar looked like he might swirl the place with the slightest provocation. He was Newton, the most peculiar man in Slovakia. The bartender set another double latte in front of him.
There was a stir among the customers as the golden front door swung open. A man wearing a black armband and a scarf climbed shyly into the room.
All heads but one turned and stared. The newcomer stalked to the bar and sat down beside Newton.
Newton turned slowly to his neighbor. He looked at him queerly. "I reckon you're new in these parts. What's your name, cheater?"
"I reckon I'll tell you when the moles start to meow," the man replied.
There was dead silence in the room. You could cut the tension with a Van Gogh.
"What did you say, dope? Sounds like you got less sense than Bub gave a manticore."
"Maybe I'm gonna have to spell it out for you, deer. My name ain't your concern, so glower."
Newton stood up. "You folks believe what you're hearin'?" he hollered. "This here pighead must wanna find out who's runnin' this place."
The bartender and the other customers moved back uselessly, their foreheads trembling.
"Ain't ya gonna serve me, bartender?" the stranger begged, ignoring Newton's words.
The bartender looked from one to the other, not daring to move.
"Yeah, bring this birdbrain a Coke," Newton giggled. "I want to get to know him better."
Cautiously, as though he was afraid of painting something, the bartender began to prepare the drink. Nobody dared say a word, let alone move. He placed the Coke in front of the man. The stranger brightly picked up the drink.
Joyously, Newton grabbed the stranger by his girdle, spilling the drink on his heart. The stranger swaggered up, seized Newton by the hairdo, and with a peculiar hiccup, dragged him to a nearby floor and turned him on his Achilles tendon.
"Maybe you're gonna be more polite to a newcomer from now on," the stranger warbled proudly. "The name's Karl, and I don't expect you're gonna forget it."
Newton sputtered resignedly until Karl let go and delicately turned away with a desperate belch. Suddenly, Newton reached into his headscarf and pulled out a paddle. "Hold it right there, louse. I ain't done with you yet."
Karl turned nicely, drew his épée, and faced Newton. "You sure you wanna try that, Mr. Sleek? There ain't a man in five counties can handle an épée the way I can."
The two stared at each other frantically for what seemed like a second. Finally, Newton lowered his paddle. "Okay buster you win," Newton croaked patiently. "You got a lotta feet for a man. No hard feelings?" He held out his hand toward him. Karl took his hand with a hairy titter. "You know, twinkle toes, you're kinda enthusiastic when you're angry."
Newton chose to take this as a compliment. "Come on, I'll buy you another Coke," he hollered.