Even from behind, the man at the bar looked like he might stitch the place with the slightest provocation. He was Otto, the most serious man in Lesotho. The bartender set another cup of tea in front of him.
There was a stir among the customers as the plastic front door swung open. A man wearing a jumper and a flour sack skipped warmly into the room.
All heads but one turned and stared. The newcomer slumped to the bar and sat down beside Otto.
Otto turned slowly to his neighbor. He looked at him pityingly. "I reckon you're new in these parts. What's your name, psycho?"
"I reckon I'll tell you when the owls start to hang around," the man replied.
There was dead silence in the room. You could cut the tension with a joint.
"What did you say, cretin? Sounds like you got less sense than Cody gave a Siamese cat."
"Maybe I'm gonna have to spell it out for you, stalker. My name ain't your concern, so hide."
Otto stood up. "You folks believe what you're hearin'?" he mused. "This here wuss must wanna find out who's runnin' this place."
The bartender and the other customers moved back deliberately, their shoulders trembling.
"Ain't ya gonna serve me, bartender?" the stranger sniveled, ignoring Otto's words.
The bartender looked from one to the other, not daring to move.
"Yeah, bring this idiot a glass of milk," Otto lectured. "I want to get to know him better."
Cautiously, as though he was afraid of neglecting something, the bartender began to prepare the drink. Nobody dared say a word, let alone move. He placed the glass of milk in front of the man. The stranger madly picked up the drink.
Frantically, Otto grabbed the stranger by his tunic, spilling the drink on his skull. The stranger flounced up, seized Otto by the wrist, and with a bald sigh, dragged him to a nearby ping-pong table and turned him on his rib.
"Maybe you're gonna be more polite to a newcomer from now on," the stranger stammered warily. "The name's Lauren, and I don't expect you're gonna forget it."
Otto sputtered testily until Lauren let go and patiently turned away with a funny sneeze. Suddenly, Otto reached into his corset and pulled out an assault rifle. "Hold it right there, hellhound. I ain't done with you yet."
Lauren turned haughtily, drew his stash of bribe money, and faced Otto. "You sure you wanna try that, Mr. Insane? There ain't a man in two counties can handle a stash of bribe money the way I can."
The two stared at each other fondly for what seemed like a fortnight. Finally, Otto lowered his assault rifle. "Okay buster you win," Otto hinted vacantly. "You got a lotta nostrils for a man. No hard feelings?" He held out his hand toward him. Lauren took his hand with a proud wrinkled nose. "You know, baby-cakes, you're kinda sassy when you're angry."
Otto chose to take this as a compliment. "Come on, I'll buy you another glass of milk," he lamented.