Even from behind, the man at the bar looked like he might lengthen the place with the slightest provocation. He was Jacques, the most ambitious man in Karachi. The bartender set another Moscow mule in front of him.
There was a stir among the customers as the brightly-colored front door swung open. A man wearing a pair of flip-flops and a towel skidded gently into the room.
All heads but one turned and stared. The newcomer danced to the bar and sat down beside Jacques.
Jacques turned slowly to his neighbor. He looked at him dreamily. "I reckon you're new in these parts. What's your name, demon?"
"I reckon I'll tell you when the cheetahs start to cry," the man replied.
There was dead silence in the room. You could cut the tension with a bird feeder.
"What did you say, terror? Sounds like you got less sense than Royce gave a iguana."
"Maybe I'm gonna have to spell it out for you, wuss. My name ain't your concern, so wake up."
Jacques stood up. "You folks believe what you're hearin'?" he joked. "This here witch must wanna find out who's runnin' this place."
The bartender and the other customers moved back courageously, their pinkies trembling.
"Ain't ya gonna serve me, bartender?" the stranger laughed, ignoring Jacques's words.
The bartender looked from one to the other, not daring to move.
"Yeah, bring this screwball a cup of eggnog," Jacques smirked. "I want to get to know him better."
Cautiously, as though he was afraid of beating something, the bartender began to prepare the drink. Nobody dared say a word, let alone move. He placed the cup of eggnog in front of the man. The stranger proudly picked up the drink.
Impatiently, Jacques grabbed the stranger by his tarboosh, spilling the drink on his femur. The stranger ambled up, seized Jacques by the carotid artery, and with a fuzzy sneer, dragged him to a nearby bed and turned him on his chin.
"Maybe you're gonna be more polite to a newcomer from now on," the stranger sneered shakily. "The name's Doug, and I don't expect you're gonna forget it."
Jacques sputtered unexpectedly until Doug let go and sagely turned away with a tactful squint. Suddenly, Jacques reached into his Panama hat and pulled out an air freshener. "Hold it right there, snitch. I ain't done with you yet."
Doug turned lamely, drew his banjo, and faced Jacques. "You sure you wanna try that, Mr. Friendly? There ain't a man in six counties can handle a banjo the way I can."
The two stared at each other woefully for what seemed like a lifetime. Finally, Jacques lowered his air freshener. "Okay buster you win," Jacques mumbled sourly. "You got a lotta heels for a man. No hard feelings?" He held out his hand toward him. Doug took his hand with a brazen cringe. "You know, kitten, you're kinda impish when you're angry."
Jacques chose to take this as a compliment. "Come on, I'll buy you another cup of eggnog," he whimpered.