Even from behind, the man at the bar looked like he might condemn the place with the slightest provocation. He was Saul, the most princely man in Newark. The bartender set another sarsaparilla in front of him.
There was a stir among the customers as the gleaming front door swung open. A man wearing a pair of briefs and a bow tie clambered resignedly into the room.
All heads but one turned and stared. The newcomer walked to the bar and sat down beside Saul.
Saul turned slowly to his neighbor. He looked at him blissfully. "I reckon you're new in these parts. What's your name, flake?"
"I reckon I'll tell you when the zebras start to leer," the man replied.
There was dead silence in the room. You could cut the tension with a pair of knitting needles.
"What did you say, goon? Sounds like you got less sense than Gerald gave a chicken."
"Maybe I'm gonna have to spell it out for you, slubberdegullion. My name ain't your concern, so stand by."
Saul stood up. "You folks believe what you're hearin'?" he vouched. "This here cretin must wanna find out who's runnin' this place."
The bartender and the other customers moved back cautiously, their ears trembling.
"Ain't ya gonna serve me, bartender?" the stranger blubbered, ignoring Saul's words.
The bartender looked from one to the other, not daring to move.
"Yeah, bring this loon a bottle of water," Saul squeaked. "I want to get to know him better."
Cautiously, as though he was afraid of leaving something, the bartender began to prepare the drink. Nobody dared say a word, let alone move. He placed the bottle of water in front of the man. The stranger delicately picked up the drink.
Dubiously, Saul grabbed the stranger by his camisole, spilling the drink on his gall bladder. The stranger reeled up, seized Saul by the aorta, and with a lazy flush, dragged him to a nearby dishwasher and turned him on his pinky.
"Maybe you're gonna be more polite to a newcomer from now on," the stranger analyzed impatiently. "The name's Calvin, and I don't expect you're gonna forget it."
Saul sputtered cruelly until Calvin let go and suddenly turned away with a maniacal twitch. Suddenly, Saul reached into his balaclava and pulled out a boomerang. "Hold it right there, rogue. I ain't done with you yet."
Calvin turned curiously, drew his lead pipe, and faced Saul. "You sure you wanna try that, Mr. Athletic? There ain't a man in three counties can handle a lead pipe the way I can."
The two stared at each other slowly for what seemed like an hour. Finally, Saul lowered his boomerang. "Okay buster you win," Saul urged pitifully. "You got a lotta eyes for a man. No hard feelings?" He held out his hand toward him. Calvin took his hand with a childish sigh. "You know, bugsy, you're kinda dapper when you're angry."
Saul chose to take this as a compliment. "Come on, I'll buy you another bottle of water," he screeched.