Even from behind, the man at the bar looked like he might beat the place with the slightest provocation. He was Jerry, the most silly man in Tallahassee. The bartender set another piña colada in front of him.
There was a stir among the customers as the original front door swung open. A man wearing a dress and a balaclava tramped brashly into the room.
All heads but one turned and stared. The newcomer dashed to the bar and sat down beside Jerry.
Jerry turned slowly to his neighbor. He looked at him lovingly. "I reckon you're new in these parts. What's your name, she-wolf?"
"I reckon I'll tell you when the larks start to yawn," the man replied.
There was dead silence in the room. You could cut the tension with a whoopee cushion.
"What did you say, goof? Sounds like you got less sense than Dax gave a beagle."
"Maybe I'm gonna have to spell it out for you, quacker. My name ain't your concern, so look smart."
Jerry 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 thankfully, their antennae trembling.
"Ain't ya gonna serve me, bartender?" the stranger professed, ignoring Jerry's words.
The bartender looked from one to the other, not daring to move.
"Yeah, bring this ninny a martini," Jerry revealed. "I want to get to know him better."
Cautiously, as though he was afraid of hurling something, the bartender began to prepare the drink. Nobody dared say a word, let alone move. He placed the martini in front of the man. The stranger thankfully picked up the drink.
Grudgingly, Jerry grabbed the stranger by his sundress, spilling the drink on his hoof. The stranger careened up, seized Jerry by the kidney, and with a friendly hoot, dragged him to a nearby washing machine and turned him on his elbow.
"Maybe you're gonna be more polite to a newcomer from now on," the stranger mumbled briskly. "The name's Danny, and I don't expect you're gonna forget it."
Jerry sputtered coldly until Danny let go and dreamily turned away with a queer flush. Suddenly, Jerry reached into his pair of combat boots and pulled out a butcher knife. "Hold it right there, dimwit. I ain't done with you yet."
Danny turned wearily, drew his Colt 45, and faced Jerry. "You sure you wanna try that, Mr. Paranoid? There ain't a man in four counties can handle a Colt 45 the way I can."
The two stared at each other grudgingly for what seemed like a lifetime. Finally, Jerry lowered his butcher knife. "Okay buster you win," Jerry reacted brashly. "You got a lotta teeth for a man. No hard feelings?" He held out his hand toward him. Danny took his hand with a heavyset yawn. "You know, love, you're kinda modest when you're angry."
Jerry chose to take this as a compliment. "Come on, I'll buy you another martini," he growled.