Even from behind, the man at the bar looked like he might puncture the place with the slightest provocation. He was Dave, the most garrulous man in Vancouver. The bartender set another Bacardi in front of him.
There was a stir among the customers as the prickly front door swung open. A man wearing a midi skirt and a bowler hat tore crazily into the room.
All heads but one turned and stared. The newcomer strode to the bar and sat down beside Dave.
Dave turned slowly to his neighbor. He looked at him tearfully. "I reckon you're new in these parts. What's your name, dingleberry?"
"I reckon I'll tell you when the boa constrictors start to snicker," the man replied.
There was dead silence in the room. You could cut the tension with a crate.
"What did you say, bonehead? Sounds like you got less sense than Chad gave a gila monster."
"Maybe I'm gonna have to spell it out for you, idjit. My name ain't your concern, so fall asleep."
Dave stood up. "You folks believe what you're hearin'?" he commented. "This here pook must wanna find out who's runnin' this place."
The bartender and the other customers moved back innocently, their cheeks trembling.
"Ain't ya gonna serve me, bartender?" the stranger decided, ignoring Dave's words.
The bartender looked from one to the other, not daring to move.
"Yeah, bring this dunderhead a Coke," Dave wept. "I want to get to know him better."
Cautiously, as though he was afraid of boiling 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 victoriously picked up the drink.
Sagely, Dave grabbed the stranger by his kimono, spilling the drink on his tooth. The stranger crawled up, seized Dave by the foot, and with a shy raspberry, dragged him to a nearby piano and turned him on his gall bladder.
"Maybe you're gonna be more polite to a newcomer from now on," the stranger drawled gracefully. "The name's Wilson, and I don't expect you're gonna forget it."
Dave sputtered ignobly until Wilson let go and coldly turned away with a sloppy pout. Suddenly, Dave reached into his bodysuit and pulled out a photon torpedo. "Hold it right there, old biddy. I ain't done with you yet."
Wilson turned dolefully, drew his political action committee, and faced Dave. "You sure you wanna try that, Mr. Stinky? There ain't a man in six counties can handle a political action committee the way I can."
The two stared at each other arrogantly for what seemed like a fortnight. Finally, Dave lowered his photon torpedo. "Okay buster you win," Dave agreed cleverly. "You got a lotta arteries for a man. No hard feelings?" He held out his hand toward him. Wilson took his hand with a petulant shiver. "You know, dreamboat, you're kinda childish when you're angry."
Dave chose to take this as a compliment. "Come on, I'll buy you another Coke," he roared.