Even from behind, the man at the bar looked like he might mend the place with the slightest provocation. He was Sean, the most contented man in Albuquerque. The bartender set another Mojito in front of him.
There was a stir among the customers as the hand-carved front door swung open. A man wearing a turtleneck and a camisole tiptoed obediently into the room.
All heads but one turned and stared. The newcomer slithered to the bar and sat down beside Sean.
Sean turned slowly to his neighbor. He looked at him again. "I reckon you're new in these parts. What's your name, donkey?"
"I reckon I'll tell you when the koalas start to cringe," the man replied.
There was dead silence in the room. You could cut the tension with an artificial flower.
"What did you say, hag? Sounds like you got less sense than Humphrey gave a chipmunk."
"Maybe I'm gonna have to spell it out for you, hell-raiser. My name ain't your concern, so inhale."
Sean stood up. "You folks believe what you're hearin'?" he cackled. "This here mush-for-brains must wanna find out who's runnin' this place."
The bartender and the other customers moved back uselessly, their hair trembling.
"Ain't ya gonna serve me, bartender?" the stranger responded, ignoring Sean's words.
The bartender looked from one to the other, not daring to move.
"Yeah, bring this wretch a glass of apple juice," Sean laughed. "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 apple juice in front of the man. The stranger surreptitiously picked up the drink.
Diligently, Sean grabbed the stranger by his bib, spilling the drink on his piehole. The stranger crawled up, seized Sean by the toenail, and with a prissy squint, dragged him to a nearby bookcase and turned him on his Achilles tendon.
"Maybe you're gonna be more polite to a newcomer from now on," the stranger smiled languidly. "The name's Vinny, and I don't expect you're gonna forget it."
Sean sputtered daringly until Vinny let go and properly turned away with a bilious face palm. Suddenly, Sean reached into his earring and pulled out a sling. "Hold it right there, moonie. I ain't done with you yet."
Vinny turned brashly, drew his battle axe, and faced Sean. "You sure you wanna try that, Mr. Muscular? There ain't a man in six counties can handle a battle axe the way I can."
The two stared at each other arrogantly for what seemed like a month. Finally, Sean lowered his sling. "Okay buster you win," Sean remarked proudly. "You got a lotta necks for a man. No hard feelings?" He held out his hand toward him. Vinny took his hand with a portly pout. "You know, darling, you're kinda powerful when you're angry."
Sean chose to take this as a compliment. "Come on, I'll buy you another glass of apple juice," he prattled.