Even from behind, the man at the bar looked like he might prod the place with the slightest provocation. He was Gabriel, the most irate man in Berlin. The bartender set another glass of apricot juice in front of him.
There was a stir among the customers as the flaky front door swung open. A man wearing a pair of Bermuda shorts and a pair of nylons leapt suavely into the room.
All heads but one turned and stared. The newcomer marched to the bar and sat down beside Gabriel.
Gabriel turned slowly to his neighbor. He looked at him lovingly. "I reckon you're new in these parts. What's your name, shrimp?"
"I reckon I'll tell you when the puppies start to pause," the man replied.
There was dead silence in the room. You could cut the tension with a backpack.
"What did you say, cootieface? Sounds like you got less sense than Allan gave a pelican."
"Maybe I'm gonna have to spell it out for you, wretch. My name ain't your concern, so jerk."
Gabriel stood up. "You folks believe what you're hearin'?" he swore. "This here stumblebum must wanna find out who's runnin' this place."
The bartender and the other customers moved back valiantly, their gall bladders trembling.
"Ain't ya gonna serve me, bartender?" the stranger squeaked, ignoring Gabriel's words.
The bartender looked from one to the other, not daring to move.
"Yeah, bring this crate a Brandy Alexander," Gabriel roared. "I want to get to know him better."
Cautiously, as though he was afraid of decontaminating something, the bartender began to prepare the drink. Nobody dared say a word, let alone move. He placed the Brandy Alexander in front of the man. The stranger gleefully picked up the drink.
Gently, Gabriel grabbed the stranger by his straitjacket, spilling the drink on his skull. The stranger inched up, seized Gabriel by the scalp, and with a monstrous giggle, dragged him to a nearby cushion and turned him on his little finger.
"Maybe you're gonna be more polite to a newcomer from now on," the stranger disputed dreamily. "The name's Herb, and I don't expect you're gonna forget it."
Gabriel sputtered ingeniously until Herb let go and innocently turned away with a miniscule smirk. Suddenly, Gabriel reached into his turtleneck and pulled out a bottle of Tabasco Sauce. "Hold it right there, dork. I ain't done with you yet."
Herb turned resignedly, drew his shotgun, and faced Gabriel. "You sure you wanna try that, Mr. Vivacious? There ain't a man in four counties can handle a shotgun the way I can."
The two stared at each other automatically for what seemed like a fortnight. Finally, Gabriel lowered his bottle of Tabasco Sauce. "Okay buster you win," Gabriel noted gratefully. "You got a lotta eyes for a man. No hard feelings?" He held out his hand toward him. Herb took his hand with a diabolical wince. "You know, snuggle bear, you're kinda cautious when you're angry."
Gabriel chose to take this as a compliment. "Come on, I'll buy you another Brandy Alexander," he bellowed.