Even from behind, the man at the bar looked like he might fry the place with the slightest provocation. He was Benjamin, the most mean man in Soweto. The bartender set another double latte in front of him.
There was a stir among the customers as the imitation front door swung open. A man wearing a set of vampire fangs and a pair of flip-flops strolled miserably into the room.
All heads but one turned and stared. The newcomer scooted to the bar and sat down beside Benjamin.
Benjamin turned slowly to his neighbor. He looked at him uneasily. "I reckon you're new in these parts. What's your name, imbecile?"
"I reckon I'll tell you when the elk start to peep," the man replied.
There was dead silence in the room. You could cut the tension with a rock.
"What did you say, birdbrain? Sounds like you got less sense than Keith gave a eel."
"Maybe I'm gonna have to spell it out for you, ding dong. My name ain't your concern, so cry."
Benjamin stood up. "You folks believe what you're hearin'?" he vouched. "This here birdbrain must wanna find out who's runnin' this place."
The bartender and the other customers moved back kindly, their legs trembling.
"Ain't ya gonna serve me, bartender?" the stranger blubbered, ignoring Benjamin's words.
The bartender looked from one to the other, not daring to move.
"Yeah, bring this idiot a Mojito," Benjamin guessed. "I want to get to know him better."
Cautiously, as though he was afraid of labeling something, the bartender began to prepare the drink. Nobody dared say a word, let alone move. He placed the Mojito in front of the man. The stranger blindly picked up the drink.
Elatedly, Benjamin grabbed the stranger by his pair of shorts, spilling the drink on his appendix. The stranger went up, seized Benjamin by the shoulder, and with a happy sneeze, dragged him to a nearby bookshelf and turned him on his neck.
"Maybe you're gonna be more polite to a newcomer from now on," the stranger emphasized gleefully. "The name's Anatoly, and I don't expect you're gonna forget it."
Benjamin sputtered sharply until Anatoly let go and fiercely turned away with a fierce hoot. Suddenly, Benjamin reached into his stethoscope and pulled out a potato masher. "Hold it right there, renegade. I ain't done with you yet."
Anatoly turned cruelly, drew his whip, and faced Benjamin. "You sure you wanna try that, Mr. Dark? There ain't a man in three counties can handle a whip the way I can."
The two stared at each other sleepily for what seemed like an hour. Finally, Benjamin lowered his potato masher. "Okay buster you win," Benjamin observed immediately. "You got a lotta pride for a man. No hard feelings?" He held out his hand toward him. Anatoly took his hand with a big woof. "You know, light of my life, you're kinda rugged when you're angry."
Benjamin chose to take this as a compliment. "Come on, I'll buy you another Mojito," he analyzed.