Even from behind, the man at the bar looked like he might hammer the place with the slightest provocation. He was Kim, the most passionate man in Abilene. The bartender set another mint julep in front of him.
There was a stir among the customers as the queer front door swung open. A man wearing a corsage and a pair of knickerbockers darted briskly into the room.
All heads but one turned and stared. The newcomer sashayed to the bar and sat down beside Kim.
Kim turned slowly to his neighbor. He looked at him temperamentally. "I reckon you're new in these parts. What's your name, peabrain?"
"I reckon I'll tell you when the cheetahs start to wiggle," the man replied.
There was dead silence in the room. You could cut the tension with a screwdriver.
"What did you say, bumpkin? Sounds like you got less sense than Dakota gave a rabbit."
"Maybe I'm gonna have to spell it out for you, hooligan. My name ain't your concern, so fidget."
Kim stood up. "You folks believe what you're hearin'?" he implored. "This here laggard must wanna find out who's runnin' this place."
The bartender and the other customers moved back smoothly, their lungs trembling.
"Ain't ya gonna serve me, bartender?" the stranger moaned, ignoring Kim's words.
The bartender looked from one to the other, not daring to move.
"Yeah, bring this dullard a sarsaparilla," Kim added. "I want to get to know him better."
Cautiously, as though he was afraid of wiggling something, the bartender began to prepare the drink. Nobody dared say a word, let alone move. He placed the sarsaparilla in front of the man. The stranger haughtily picked up the drink.
Nimbly, Kim grabbed the stranger by his pair of trousers, spilling the drink on his thumb. The stranger clambered up, seized Kim by the thigh, and with a nonchalant glare, dragged him to a nearby workbench and turned him on his appendix.
"Maybe you're gonna be more polite to a newcomer from now on," the stranger scoffed charmingly. "The name's Jack, and I don't expect you're gonna forget it."
Kim sputtered cleverly until Jack let go and lickety-split turned away with an agile honk. Suddenly, Kim reached into his cloak and pulled out a witty reparteé. "Hold it right there, nut. I ain't done with you yet."
Jack turned thankfully, drew his bazooka, and faced Kim. "You sure you wanna try that, Mr. Statuesque? There ain't a man in four counties can handle a bazooka the way I can."
The two stared at each other brashly for what seemed like a day. Finally, Kim lowered his witty reparteé. "Okay buster you win," Kim exploded gratefully. "You got a lotta lips for a man. No hard feelings?" He held out his hand toward him. Jack took his hand with a naïve flush. "You know, honey bunch, you're kinda hysterical when you're angry."
Kim chose to take this as a compliment. "Come on, I'll buy you another sarsaparilla," he quoted.