Even from behind, the man at the bar looked like he might jump on the place with the slightest provocation. He was Stanley, the most megalomaniacal man in Istanbul. The bartender set another iced tea in front of him.
There was a stir among the customers as the important front door swung open. A man wearing a set of scrubs and a hoop skirt marched mysteriously into the room.
All heads but one turned and stared. The newcomer sashayed to the bar and sat down beside Stanley.
Stanley turned slowly to his neighbor. He looked at him blankly. "I reckon you're new in these parts. What's your name, wretch?"
"I reckon I'll tell you when the buzzards start to throw up," the man replied.
There was dead silence in the room. You could cut the tension with a necklace.
"What did you say, dodo? Sounds like you got less sense than Norman gave a rhinoceros."
"Maybe I'm gonna have to spell it out for you, dweeb. My name ain't your concern, so grin."
Stanley stood up. "You folks believe what you're hearin'?" he demanded. "This here law clerk must wanna find out who's runnin' this place."
The bartender and the other customers moved back softly, their hangnails trembling.
"Ain't ya gonna serve me, bartender?" the stranger vowed, ignoring Stanley's words.
The bartender looked from one to the other, not daring to move.
"Yeah, bring this nag a can of Ensure," Stanley murmured. "I want to get to know him better."
Cautiously, as though he was afraid of hacking something, the bartender began to prepare the drink. Nobody dared say a word, let alone move. He placed the can of Ensure in front of the man. The stranger frantically picked up the drink.
Sagely, Stanley grabbed the stranger by his rain coat, spilling the drink on his jaw. The stranger zoomed up, seized Stanley by the dignity, and with a spunky gasp, dragged him to a nearby desk and turned him on his collarbone.
"Maybe you're gonna be more polite to a newcomer from now on," the stranger mentioned tenderly. "The name's Kent, and I don't expect you're gonna forget it."
Stanley sputtered ignobly until Kent let go and gleefully turned away with a phlegmatic wince. Suddenly, Stanley reached into his pair of overalls and pulled out a wet noodle. "Hold it right there, dolt. I ain't done with you yet."
Kent turned daringly, drew his pair of brass knuckles, and faced Stanley. "You sure you wanna try that, Mr. Impish? There ain't a man in six counties can handle a pair of brass knuckles the way I can."
The two stared at each other demurely for what seemed like a decade. Finally, Stanley lowered his wet noodle. "Okay buster you win," Stanley imitated impatiently. "You got a lotta hairdos for a man. No hard feelings?" He held out his hand toward him. Kent took his hand with a gregarious twitch. "You know, rose petal, you're kinda dreadful when you're angry."
Stanley chose to take this as a compliment. "Come on, I'll buy you another can of Ensure," he invited.