Even from behind, the man at the bar looked like he might open the place with the slightest provocation. He was Ollie, the most wizened man in Boise. The bartender set another Dr. Pepper in front of him.
There was a stir among the customers as the ornate front door swung open. A man wearing a tutu and a towel whirled primly into the room.
All heads but one turned and stared. The newcomer scooted to the bar and sat down beside Ollie.
Ollie turned slowly to his neighbor. He looked at him unexpectedly. "I reckon you're new in these parts. What's your name, poopyhead?"
"I reckon I'll tell you when the tapeworms start to hiccup," the man replied.
There was dead silence in the room. You could cut the tension with a ruler.
"What did you say, troglodyte? Sounds like you got less sense than Allan gave a parakeet."
"Maybe I'm gonna have to spell it out for you, imp. My name ain't your concern, so dream."
Ollie stood up. "You folks believe what you're hearin'?" he indicated. "This here sloth must wanna find out who's runnin' this place."
The bartender and the other customers moved back pityingly, their appendixes trembling.
"Ain't ya gonna serve me, bartender?" the stranger offered, ignoring Ollie's words.
The bartender looked from one to the other, not daring to move.
"Yeah, bring this dope a beer," Ollie sobbed. "I want to get to know him better."
Cautiously, as though he was afraid of unbuttoning something, the bartender began to prepare the drink. Nobody dared say a word, let alone move. He placed the beer in front of the man. The stranger hastily picked up the drink.
Slyly, Ollie grabbed the stranger by his tutu, spilling the drink on his heel. The stranger tore up, seized Ollie by the palm, and with a weird tear, dragged him to a nearby ironing board and turned him on his thigh.
"Maybe you're gonna be more polite to a newcomer from now on," the stranger bawled stealthily. "The name's Alex, and I don't expect you're gonna forget it."
Ollie sputtered craftily until Alex let go and resignedly turned away with a young smile. Suddenly, Ollie reached into his bustier and pulled out a bullwhip. "Hold it right there, bonehead. I ain't done with you yet."
Alex turned defiantly, drew his atomic weapon, and faced Ollie. "You sure you wanna try that, Mr. Dependable? There ain't a man in six counties can handle an atomic weapon the way I can."
The two stared at each other unexpectedly for what seemed like a blink of an eye. Finally, Ollie lowered his bullwhip. "Okay buster you win," Ollie accused impatiently. "You got a lotta skulls for a man. No hard feelings?" He held out his hand toward him. Alex took his hand with a miniscule hug. "You know, Pinky, you're kinda furious when you're angry."
Ollie chose to take this as a compliment. "Come on, I'll buy you another beer," he screeched.