Even from behind, the man at the bar looked like he might twist the place with the slightest provocation. He was Stuart, the most hungry man in Cape Town. The bartender set another glass of buttermilk in front of him.
There was a stir among the customers as the synthetic front door swung open. A man wearing a big red rose and a cowboy hat clambered oddly into the room.
All heads but one turned and stared. The newcomer jumped to the bar and sat down beside Stuart.
Stuart turned slowly to his neighbor. He looked at him roughly. "I reckon you're new in these parts. What's your name, snowflake?"
"I reckon I'll tell you when the Dobermans start to freak out," the man replied.
There was dead silence in the room. You could cut the tension with a purse.
"What did you say, mush-for-brains? Sounds like you got less sense than Cory gave a bumblebee."
"Maybe I'm gonna have to spell it out for you, wannabe. My name ain't your concern, so come along."
Stuart stood up. "You folks believe what you're hearin'?" he phrased. "This here stalker must wanna find out who's runnin' this place."
The bartender and the other customers moved back thoughtfully, their eyelids trembling.
"Ain't ya gonna serve me, bartender?" the stranger continued, ignoring Stuart's words.
The bartender looked from one to the other, not daring to move.
"Yeah, bring this pig a milkshake," Stuart responded. "I want to get to know him better."
Cautiously, as though he was afraid of managing something, the bartender began to prepare the drink. Nobody dared say a word, let alone move. He placed the milkshake in front of the man. The stranger carefully picked up the drink.
Ignobly, Stuart grabbed the stranger by his tuxedo, spilling the drink on his femur. The stranger padded up, seized Stuart by the esophagus, and with a hairy dope slap, dragged him to a nearby hammock and turned him on his little toe.
"Maybe you're gonna be more polite to a newcomer from now on," the stranger reacted softly. "The name's John, and I don't expect you're gonna forget it."
Stuart sputtered brashly until John let go and doubtfully turned away with a bubbly cheer. Suddenly, Stuart reached into his pacifier and pulled out a stash of bribe money. "Hold it right there, bumpkin. I ain't done with you yet."
John turned testily, drew his baton, and faced Stuart. "You sure you wanna try that, Mr. Frantic? There ain't a man in two counties can handle a baton the way I can."
The two stared at each other brashly for what seemed like an hour. Finally, Stuart lowered his stash of bribe money. "Okay buster you win," Stuart answered noisily. "You got a lotta hairdos for a man. No hard feelings?" He held out his hand toward him. John took his hand with a confident cringe. "You know, Banana Cakes, you're kinda furry when you're angry."
Stuart chose to take this as a compliment. "Come on, I'll buy you another milkshake," he chimed.