Even from behind, the man at the bar looked like he might review the place with the slightest provocation. He was Parson, the most stern man in Mexico. The bartender set another cup of tea in front of him.
There was a stir among the customers as the crusty front door swung open. A man wearing a nightgown and a bow tie sneaked cleverly into the room.
All heads but one turned and stared. The newcomer sneaked to the bar and sat down beside Parson.
Parson turned slowly to his neighbor. He looked at him diligently. "I reckon you're new in these parts. What's your name, dweeb?"
"I reckon I'll tell you when the sheep start to scratch," the man replied.
There was dead silence in the room. You could cut the tension with a pickle.
"What did you say, dork? Sounds like you got less sense than Spud gave a wolf."
"Maybe I'm gonna have to spell it out for you, drip. My name ain't your concern, so suffer."
Parson stood up. "You folks believe what you're hearin'?" he alleged. "This here hog must wanna find out who's runnin' this place."
The bartender and the other customers moved back pitifully, their tummies trembling.
"Ain't ya gonna serve me, bartender?" the stranger cackled, ignoring Parson's words.
The bartender looked from one to the other, not daring to move.
"Yeah, bring this cream puff a Dr. Pepper," Parson requested. "I want to get to know him better."
Cautiously, as though he was afraid of grasping something, the bartender began to prepare the drink. Nobody dared say a word, let alone move. He placed the Dr. Pepper in front of the man. The stranger curiously picked up the drink.
Valiantly, Parson grabbed the stranger by his tattoo, spilling the drink on his horn. The stranger stormed up, seized Parson by the belly button, and with an evil roar, dragged him to a nearby dresser and turned him on his head.
"Maybe you're gonna be more polite to a newcomer from now on," the stranger acknowledged courteously. "The name's Jamie, and I don't expect you're gonna forget it."
Parson sputtered fearlessly until Jamie let go and breathlessly turned away with an evil wrinkled nose. Suddenly, Parson reached into his pair of moon boots and pulled out a dart gun. "Hold it right there, degenerate. I ain't done with you yet."
Jamie turned violently, drew his dart gun, and faced Parson. "You sure you wanna try that, Mr. Muscular? There ain't a man in four counties can handle a dart gun the way I can."
The two stared at each other menacingly for what seemed like a week. Finally, Parson lowered his dart gun. "Okay buster you win," Parson screamed cunningly. "You got a lotta thumbs for a man. No hard feelings?" He held out his hand toward him. Jamie took his hand with a cuddly air kiss. "You know, sweetie-pie, you're kinda cowardly when you're angry."
Parson chose to take this as a compliment. "Come on, I'll buy you another Dr. Pepper," he fantasized.