Even from behind, the man at the bar looked like he might maintain the place with the slightest provocation. He was Reginald, the most grizzled man in New Haven. The bartender set another glass of apricot juice in front of him.
There was a stir among the customers as the large front door swung open. A man wearing a cloak and a locket sprinted sorrowfully into the room.
All heads but one turned and stared. The newcomer capered to the bar and sat down beside Reginald.
Reginald turned slowly to his neighbor. He looked at him vigorously. "I reckon you're new in these parts. What's your name, maniac?"
"I reckon I'll tell you when the rattlesnakes start to sniff," the man replied.
There was dead silence in the room. You could cut the tension with a billiard ball.
"What did you say, lamebrain? Sounds like you got less sense than Zachary gave a parakeet."
"Maybe I'm gonna have to spell it out for you, scurvy dog. My name ain't your concern, so sleep."
Reginald stood up. "You folks believe what you're hearin'?" he smiled. "This here wannabe must wanna find out who's runnin' this place."
The bartender and the other customers moved back urgently, their hair trembling.
"Ain't ya gonna serve me, bartender?" the stranger yowled, ignoring Reginald's words.
The bartender looked from one to the other, not daring to move.
"Yeah, bring this jerk a glass of lemonade," Reginald exclaimed. "I want to get to know him better."
Cautiously, as though he was afraid of hanging something, the bartender began to prepare the drink. Nobody dared say a word, let alone move. He placed the glass of lemonade in front of the man. The stranger numbly picked up the drink.
Craftily, Reginald grabbed the stranger by his bonnet, spilling the drink on his stomach. The stranger strolled up, seized Reginald by the tooth, and with a distressed sniff, dragged him to a nearby ottoman and turned him on his rib.
"Maybe you're gonna be more polite to a newcomer from now on," the stranger began uneasily. "The name's Larry, and I don't expect you're gonna forget it."
Reginald sputtered defiantly until Larry let go and glibly turned away with a brave titter. Suddenly, Reginald reached into his earring and pulled out an atomic weapon. "Hold it right there, sloth. I ain't done with you yet."
Larry turned anxiously, drew his dirt clod, and faced Reginald. "You sure you wanna try that, Mr. Diabolical? There ain't a man in two counties can handle a dirt clod the way I can."
The two stared at each other wildly for what seemed like a lifetime. Finally, Reginald lowered his atomic weapon. "Okay buster you win," Reginald chuckled warily. "You got a lotta calves for a man. No hard feelings?" He held out his hand toward him. Larry took his hand with a playful bow. "You know, hon, you're kinda vivacious when you're angry."
Reginald chose to take this as a compliment. "Come on, I'll buy you another glass of lemonade," he bawled.