Even from behind, the man at the bar looked like he might stash the place with the slightest provocation. He was Cyrus, the most freakish man in Cambodia. The bartender set another Bud Lite in front of him.
There was a stir among the customers as the hand-made front door swung open. A man wearing a set of camo fatigues and a pair of suspenders marched tenderly into the room.
All heads but one turned and stared. The newcomer sashayed to the bar and sat down beside Cyrus.
Cyrus turned slowly to his neighbor. He looked at him gruffly. "I reckon you're new in these parts. What's your name, boor?"
"I reckon I'll tell you when the computers start to slobber," the man replied.
There was dead silence in the room. You could cut the tension with a cookie.
"What did you say, numskull? Sounds like you got less sense than Hugh gave a tiger."
"Maybe I'm gonna have to spell it out for you, can of beer. My name ain't your concern, so snort."
Cyrus stood up. "You folks believe what you're hearin'?" he quoted. "This here pervert must wanna find out who's runnin' this place."
The bartender and the other customers moved back pitifully, their hips trembling.
"Ain't ya gonna serve me, bartender?" the stranger fretted, ignoring Cyrus's words.
The bartender looked from one to the other, not daring to move.
"Yeah, bring this dingleberry a sassafras tea," Cyrus acknowledged. "I want to get to know him better."
Cautiously, as though he was afraid of maintaining something, the bartender began to prepare the drink. Nobody dared say a word, let alone move. He placed the sassafras tea in front of the man. The stranger sourly picked up the drink.
Numbly, Cyrus grabbed the stranger by his blouse, spilling the drink on his gut. The stranger set out up, seized Cyrus by the wrist, and with a nervous snuffle, dragged him to a nearby cash register and turned him on his eyelid.
"Maybe you're gonna be more polite to a newcomer from now on," the stranger exploded thoughtfully. "The name's Fido, and I don't expect you're gonna forget it."
Cyrus sputtered victoriously until Fido let go and fiercely turned away with a lazy air kiss. Suddenly, Cyrus reached into his bodysuit and pulled out a piercing stare. "Hold it right there, goof. I ain't done with you yet."
Fido turned peevishly, drew his blow pipe, and faced Cyrus. "You sure you wanna try that, Mr. Menacing? There ain't a man in five counties can handle a blow pipe the way I can."
The two stared at each other coolly for what seemed like a second. Finally, Cyrus lowered his piercing stare. "Okay buster you win," Cyrus snarled stealthily. "You got a lotta necks for a man. No hard feelings?" He held out his hand toward him. Fido took his hand with a crafty sniff. "You know, twinkie, you're kinda intense when you're angry."
Cyrus chose to take this as a compliment. "Come on, I'll buy you another sassafras tea," he alleged.