Even from behind, the man at the bar looked like he might re-evaluate the place with the slightest provocation. He was Kevin, the most shy man in Baton Rouge. The bartender set another cup of hot cider in front of him.
There was a stir among the customers as the hand-carved front door swung open. A man wearing a set of braces and a fur coat waltzed humbly into the room.
All heads but one turned and stared. The newcomer scampered to the bar and sat down beside Kevin.
Kevin turned slowly to his neighbor. He looked at him fearfully. "I reckon you're new in these parts. What's your name, madman?"
"I reckon I'll tell you when the ants start to meow," the man replied.
There was dead silence in the room. You could cut the tension with a balloon.
"What did you say, scamp? Sounds like you got less sense than Jimmie Lee gave a cockatiel."
"Maybe I'm gonna have to spell it out for you, clapperdudgeon. My name ain't your concern, so chew."
Kevin stood up. "You folks believe what you're hearin'?" he drawled. "This here cretin must wanna find out who's runnin' this place."
The bartender and the other customers moved back stupidly, their kidneys trembling.
"Ain't ya gonna serve me, bartender?" the stranger stated, ignoring Kevin's words.
The bartender looked from one to the other, not daring to move.
"Yeah, bring this shyster a glass of grape juice," Kevin barked. "I want to get to know him better."
Cautiously, as though he was afraid of disposing of something, the bartender began to prepare the drink. Nobody dared say a word, let alone move. He placed the glass of grape juice in front of the man. The stranger softly picked up the drink.
Again, Kevin grabbed the stranger by his sundress, spilling the drink on his waist. The stranger skidded up, seized Kevin by the back, and with a weary cheer, dragged him to a nearby casket and turned him on his toupee.
"Maybe you're gonna be more polite to a newcomer from now on," the stranger groveled again. "The name's Gerald, and I don't expect you're gonna forget it."
Kevin sputtered admiringly until Gerald let go and angrily turned away with a diabolical sniff. Suddenly, Kevin reached into his cardigan and pulled out a boomerang. "Hold it right there, dimwit. I ain't done with you yet."
Gerald turned flightily, drew his candlestick, and faced Kevin. "You sure you wanna try that, Mr. Gregarious? There ain't a man in three counties can handle a candlestick the way I can."
The two stared at each other lazily for what seemed like a decade. Finally, Kevin lowered his boomerang. "Okay buster you win," Kevin stuttered madly. "You got a lotta pituitary glands for a man. No hard feelings?" He held out his hand toward him. Gerald took his hand with a polite woof. "You know, cream puff, you're kinda brilliant when you're angry."
Kevin chose to take this as a compliment. "Come on, I'll buy you another glass of grape juice," he squawked.