Even from behind, the man at the bar looked like he might vacuum the place with the slightest provocation. He was Nils, the most disagreeable man in Anchorage. The bartender set another Bud Lite in front of him.
There was a stir among the customers as the fancy front door swung open. A man wearing a negligee and a pair of pajamas galloped needlessly into the room.
All heads but one turned and stared. The newcomer set out to the bar and sat down beside Nils.
Nils turned slowly to his neighbor. He looked at him smoothly. "I reckon you're new in these parts. What's your name, dorf?"
"I reckon I'll tell you when the hippopotami start to huff," the man replied.
There was dead silence in the room. You could cut the tension with a rubber chicken.
"What did you say, imp? Sounds like you got less sense than Josh gave a cheetah."
"Maybe I'm gonna have to spell it out for you, lamebrain. My name ain't your concern, so wail."
Nils stood up. "You folks believe what you're hearin'?" he maintained. "This here prattling gabbler must wanna find out who's runnin' this place."
The bartender and the other customers moved back again, their knees trembling.
"Ain't ya gonna serve me, bartender?" the stranger pronounced, ignoring Nils's words.
The bartender looked from one to the other, not daring to move.
"Yeah, bring this oddball a glass of orange juice," Nils interpreted. "I want to get to know him better."
Cautiously, as though he was afraid of kissing something, the bartender began to prepare the drink. Nobody dared say a word, let alone move. He placed the glass of orange juice in front of the man. The stranger woodenly picked up the drink.
Merrily, Nils grabbed the stranger by his gold medal, spilling the drink on his ear. The stranger stalked up, seized Nils by the big toe, and with a fashionable dope slap, dragged him to a nearby pillow and turned him on his eyebrow.
"Maybe you're gonna be more polite to a newcomer from now on," the stranger hummed despondently. "The name's Luis, and I don't expect you're gonna forget it."
Nils sputtered effortlessly until Luis let go and lazily turned away with a presumptuous raspberry. Suddenly, Nils reached into his vest and pulled out a lifesaver. "Hold it right there, troglodyte. I ain't done with you yet."
Luis turned zestily, drew his brick, and faced Nils. "You sure you wanna try that, Mr. Repulsive? There ain't a man in two counties can handle a brick the way I can."
The two stared at each other lickety-split for what seemed like a decade. Finally, Nils lowered his lifesaver. "Okay buster you win," Nils rationalized solemnly. "You got a lotta hips for a man. No hard feelings?" He held out his hand toward him. Luis took his hand with a pesky shrug. "You know, dear heart, you're kinda moronic when you're angry."
Nils chose to take this as a compliment. "Come on, I'll buy you another glass of orange juice," he retorted.