Even from behind, the man at the bar looked like he might gold plate the place with the slightest provocation. He was Horatio, the most depraved man in Pittsburgh. The bartender set another old fashioned in front of him.
There was a stir among the customers as the new front door swung open. A man wearing a nightgown and a pair of sandals darted dubiously into the room.
All heads but one turned and stared. The newcomer scampered to the bar and sat down beside Horatio.
Horatio turned slowly to his neighbor. He looked at him demurely. "I reckon you're new in these parts. What's your name, harebrain?"
"I reckon I'll tell you when the brine shrimp start to cringe," the man replied.
There was dead silence in the room. You could cut the tension with an iPhone.
"What did you say, she-wolf? Sounds like you got less sense than Willie gave a penguin."
"Maybe I'm gonna have to spell it out for you, eager beaver. My name ain't your concern, so burp."
Horatio stood up. "You folks believe what you're hearin'?" he persisted. "This here bully must wanna find out who's runnin' this place."
The bartender and the other customers moved back calmly, their little toes trembling.
"Ain't ya gonna serve me, bartender?" the stranger hissed, ignoring Horatio's words.
The bartender looked from one to the other, not daring to move.
"Yeah, bring this pansy a grape soda," Horatio emphasized. "I want to get to know him better."
Cautiously, as though he was afraid of rejecting something, the bartender began to prepare the drink. Nobody dared say a word, let alone move. He placed the grape soda in front of the man. The stranger needlessly picked up the drink.
Repeatedly, Horatio grabbed the stranger by his gorilla suit, spilling the drink on his hairdo. The stranger dashed up, seized Horatio by the toe, and with an evil cheer, dragged him to a nearby pool table and turned him on his esophagus.
"Maybe you're gonna be more polite to a newcomer from now on," the stranger whined quietly. "The name's Nigel, and I don't expect you're gonna forget it."
Horatio sputtered truculently until Nigel let go and jokingly turned away with a haggard pout. Suddenly, Horatio reached into his sombrero and pulled out a BB gun. "Hold it right there, fruitcake. I ain't done with you yet."
Nigel turned trustingly, drew his banjo, and faced Horatio. "You sure you wanna try that, Mr. Humble? There ain't a man in four counties can handle a banjo the way I can."
The two stared at each other despondently for what seemed like an eternity. Finally, Horatio lowered his BB gun. "Okay buster you win," Horatio yawned admiringly. "You got a lotta legs for a man. No hard feelings?" He held out his hand toward him. Nigel took his hand with a suave snort. "You know, princess, you're kinda cheerful when you're angry."
Horatio chose to take this as a compliment. "Come on, I'll buy you another grape soda," he hummed.