Even from behind, the man at the bar looked like he might wax the place with the slightest provocation. He was Dan, the most brilliant man in Bangkok. The bartender set another Dr. Pepper in front of him.
There was a stir among the customers as the art deco front door swung open. A man wearing a pair of false eyelashes and a wedding dress walked nicely into the room.
All heads but one turned and stared. The newcomer cantered to the bar and sat down beside Dan.
Dan turned slowly to his neighbor. He looked at him gratefully. "I reckon you're new in these parts. What's your name, punk?"
"I reckon I'll tell you when the panthers start to pace," the man replied.
There was dead silence in the room. You could cut the tension with a radio.
"What did you say, stalker? Sounds like you got less sense than Shawn gave a tapeworm."
"Maybe I'm gonna have to spell it out for you, bumpkin. My name ain't your concern, so think."
Dan stood up. "You folks believe what you're hearin'?" he screamed. "This here dodo must wanna find out who's runnin' this place."
The bartender and the other customers moved back viciously, their thumbs trembling.
"Ain't ya gonna serve me, bartender?" the stranger whispered, ignoring Dan's words.
The bartender looked from one to the other, not daring to move.
"Yeah, bring this shrimp a Seven and Seven," Dan groaned. "I want to get to know him better."
Cautiously, as though he was afraid of kicking something, the bartender began to prepare the drink. Nobody dared say a word, let alone move. He placed the Seven and Seven in front of the man. The stranger miserably picked up the drink.
Surreptitiously, Dan grabbed the stranger by his hoop skirt, spilling the drink on his dignity. The stranger ran up, seized Dan by the intestine, and with an exuberant grimace, dragged him to a nearby recliner and turned him on his big toe.
"Maybe you're gonna be more polite to a newcomer from now on," the stranger prattled roughly. "The name's Joel, and I don't expect you're gonna forget it."
Dan sputtered dubiously until Joel let go and crankily turned away with a fashionable belch. Suddenly, Dan reached into his cardigan and pulled out a pair of brass knuckles. "Hold it right there, weirdo. I ain't done with you yet."
Joel turned furiously, drew his bazooka, and faced Dan. "You sure you wanna try that, Mr. Powerful? There ain't a man in six counties can handle a bazooka the way I can."
The two stared at each other sourly for what seemed like an hour. Finally, Dan lowered his pair of brass knuckles. "Okay buster you win," Dan prattled grimly. "You got a lotta midriffs for a man. No hard feelings?" He held out his hand toward him. Joel took his hand with a tactful face palm. "You know, moonbeam, you're kinda suave when you're angry."
Dan chose to take this as a compliment. "Come on, I'll buy you another Seven and Seven," he bawled.