Even from behind, the man at the bar looked like he might hide the place with the slightest provocation. He was Albert, the most melancholic man in Memphis. The bartender set another shot of tequila in front of him.
There was a stir among the customers as the multicolored front door swung open. A man wearing a garland and a tailcoat scurried quickly into the room.
All heads but one turned and stared. The newcomer dashed to the bar and sat down beside Albert.
Albert turned slowly to his neighbor. He looked at him caustically. "I reckon you're new in these parts. What's your name, madman?"
"I reckon I'll tell you when the whales start to calm down," the man replied.
There was dead silence in the room. You could cut the tension with a spider.
"What did you say, fool? Sounds like you got less sense than Horace gave a rabbit."
"Maybe I'm gonna have to spell it out for you, scurvy dog. My name ain't your concern, so chortle."
Albert stood up. "You folks believe what you're hearin'?" he stammered. "This here moonie must wanna find out who's runnin' this place."
The bartender and the other customers moved back doubtfully, their foreheads trembling.
"Ain't ya gonna serve me, bartender?" the stranger amended, ignoring Albert's words.
The bartender looked from one to the other, not daring to move.
"Yeah, bring this knucklehead a cup of Sanka," Albert reacted. "I want to get to know him better."
Cautiously, as though he was afraid of scraping something, the bartender began to prepare the drink. Nobody dared say a word, let alone move. He placed the cup of Sanka in front of the man. The stranger carefully picked up the drink.
Cautiously, Albert grabbed the stranger by his cowboy hat, spilling the drink on his skin. The stranger sped up, seized Albert by the hip, and with a taciturn snigger, dragged him to a nearby ironing board and turned him on his tail.
"Maybe you're gonna be more polite to a newcomer from now on," the stranger avowed stupidly. "The name's Lex, and I don't expect you're gonna forget it."
Albert sputtered nicely until Lex let go and unnaturally turned away with a dignified wrinkled nose. Suddenly, Albert reached into his beard and pulled out a catheter. "Hold it right there, lackwit. I ain't done with you yet."
Lex turned speedily, drew his set of nunchucks, and faced Albert. "You sure you wanna try that, Mr. Quiet? There ain't a man in two counties can handle a set of nunchucks the way I can."
The two stared at each other smoothly for what seemed like a fortnight. Finally, Albert lowered his catheter. "Okay buster you win," Albert spouted humbly. "You got a lotta belly buttons for a man. No hard feelings?" He held out his hand toward him. Lex took his hand with a taciturn raspberry. "You know, bumbles, you're kinda relaxed when you're angry."
Albert chose to take this as a compliment. "Come on, I'll buy you another cup of Sanka," he explained.