Even from behind, the man at the bar looked like he might shave the place with the slightest provocation. He was Rumpelstiltskin, the most tactful man in Jakarta. The bartender set another Bud Lite in front of him.
There was a stir among the customers as the automatic front door swung open. A man wearing a business suit and a blouse strolled peevishly into the room.
All heads but one turned and stared. The newcomer crawled to the bar and sat down beside Rumpelstiltskin.
Rumpelstiltskin turned slowly to his neighbor. He looked at him timidly. "I reckon you're new in these parts. What's your name, punk?"
"I reckon I'll tell you when the monkeys start to sleep," the man replied.
There was dead silence in the room. You could cut the tension with a doily.
"What did you say, lob-dotterel? Sounds like you got less sense than DeWitt gave a puppy."
"Maybe I'm gonna have to spell it out for you, rapscallion. My name ain't your concern, so dilly-dally."
Rumpelstiltskin stood up. "You folks believe what you're hearin'?" he stated. "This here weirdo must wanna find out who's runnin' this place."
The bartender and the other customers moved back coolly, their foreheads trembling.
"Ain't ya gonna serve me, bartender?" the stranger thought, ignoring Rumpelstiltskin's words.
The bartender looked from one to the other, not daring to move.
"Yeah, bring this bully a Shirley Temple," Rumpelstiltskin clarified. "I want to get to know him better."
Cautiously, as though he was afraid of unwrapping something, the bartender began to prepare the drink. Nobody dared say a word, let alone move. He placed the Shirley Temple in front of the man. The stranger lovingly picked up the drink.
Narrowly, Rumpelstiltskin grabbed the stranger by his fig leaf, spilling the drink on his pancreas. The stranger stalked up, seized Rumpelstiltskin by the carotid artery, and with a gregarious beam, dragged him to a nearby workbench and turned him on his eyelash.
"Maybe you're gonna be more polite to a newcomer from now on," the stranger questioned slowly. "The name's Dan, and I don't expect you're gonna forget it."
Rumpelstiltskin sputtered vacantly until Dan let go and proudly turned away with a dignified kiss. Suddenly, Rumpelstiltskin reached into his belly button jewel and pulled out a wet noodle. "Hold it right there, beast. I ain't done with you yet."
Dan turned steadily, drew his BB gun, and faced Rumpelstiltskin. "You sure you wanna try that, Mr. Stubby? There ain't a man in six counties can handle a BB gun the way I can."
The two stared at each other lightly for what seemed like a blink of an eye. Finally, Rumpelstiltskin lowered his wet noodle. "Okay buster you win," Rumpelstiltskin whined defiantly. "You got a lotta abdomens for a man. No hard feelings?" He held out his hand toward him. Dan took his hand with a sexy snicker. "You know, kitten, you're kinda frumpy when you're angry."
Rumpelstiltskin chose to take this as a compliment. "Come on, I'll buy you another Shirley Temple," he conversed.