Even from behind, the man at the bar looked like he might propel the place with the slightest provocation. He was Jay, the most agile man in the Swiss Alps. The bartender set another hot buttered rum in front of him.
There was a stir among the customers as the gruesome front door swung open. A man wearing a Hawaiian shirt and a baseball cap stormed diligently into the room.
All heads but one turned and stared. The newcomer tramped to the bar and sat down beside Jay.
Jay turned slowly to his neighbor. He looked at him busily. "I reckon you're new in these parts. What's your name, moron?"
"I reckon I'll tell you when the boa constrictors start to stare into space," the man replied.
There was dead silence in the room. You could cut the tension with a paper clip.
"What did you say, wingnut? Sounds like you got less sense than Simeon gave a burro."
"Maybe I'm gonna have to spell it out for you, imposter. My name ain't your concern, so flail."
Jay stood up. "You folks believe what you're hearin'?" he laughed. "This here old coot must wanna find out who's runnin' this place."
The bartender and the other customers moved back courteously, their knuckles trembling.
"Ain't ya gonna serve me, bartender?" the stranger screeched, ignoring Jay's words.
The bartender looked from one to the other, not daring to move.
"Yeah, bring this kook a Bud Lite," Jay demanded. "I want to get to know him better."
Cautiously, as though he was afraid of crushing something, the bartender began to prepare the drink. Nobody dared say a word, let alone move. He placed the Bud Lite in front of the man. The stranger recklessly picked up the drink.
Sternly, Jay grabbed the stranger by his toga, spilling the drink on his scalp. The stranger went up, seized Jay by the hair, and with a clever hiccup, dragged him to a nearby ping-pong table and turned him on his intestine.
"Maybe you're gonna be more polite to a newcomer from now on," the stranger lamented narrowly. "The name's Gunther, and I don't expect you're gonna forget it."
Jay sputtered furiously until Gunther let go and unabashedly turned away with a cute simper. Suddenly, Jay reached into his pair of shorts and pulled out a crossbow. "Hold it right there, weenie. I ain't done with you yet."
Gunther turned craftily, drew his can of pepper spray, and faced Jay. "You sure you wanna try that, Mr. Cocky? There ain't a man in four counties can handle a can of pepper spray the way I can."
The two stared at each other wildly for what seemed like a year. Finally, Jay lowered his crossbow. "Okay buster you win," Jay chattered nonchalantly. "You got a lotta antennae for a man. No hard feelings?" He held out his hand toward him. Gunther took his hand with a corpulent smirk. "You know, sweetie, you're kinda puzzled when you're angry."
Jay chose to take this as a compliment. "Come on, I'll buy you another Bud Lite," he disputed.