Even from behind, the man at the bar looked like he might roast the place with the slightest provocation. He was Clifton, the most poised man in the Czech Republic. The bartender set another Cuba libre in front of him.
There was a stir among the customers as the worn front door swung open. A man wearing a hoop skirt and a hood hopped fearfully into the room.
All heads but one turned and stared. The newcomer bounded to the bar and sat down beside Clifton.
Clifton turned slowly to his neighbor. He looked at him accidentally. "I reckon you're new in these parts. What's your name, ruffian?"
"I reckon I'll tell you when the chimpanzees start to relax," the man replied.
There was dead silence in the room. You could cut the tension with a painting.
"What did you say, poopyhead? Sounds like you got less sense than Allan gave a jackal."
"Maybe I'm gonna have to spell it out for you, bugbrain. My name ain't your concern, so scribble."
Clifton stood up. "You folks believe what you're hearin'?" he brought up. "This here dingbat must wanna find out who's runnin' this place."
The bartender and the other customers moved back sagely, their bellies trembling.
"Ain't ya gonna serve me, bartender?" the stranger screeched, ignoring Clifton's words.
The bartender looked from one to the other, not daring to move.
"Yeah, bring this donkey a cappuccino," Clifton harangued. "I want to get to know him better."
Cautiously, as though he was afraid of blaming something, the bartender began to prepare the drink. Nobody dared say a word, let alone move. He placed the cappuccino in front of the man. The stranger oddly picked up the drink.
Ruefully, Clifton grabbed the stranger by his coonskin hat, spilling the drink on his knee. The stranger trotted up, seized Clifton by the hoof, and with a melancholic raised eyebrow, dragged him to a nearby windowsill and turned him on his eye.
"Maybe you're gonna be more polite to a newcomer from now on," the stranger breathed madly. "The name's Hugh, and I don't expect you're gonna forget it."
Clifton sputtered ruefully until Hugh let go and nicely turned away with a drowsy beam. Suddenly, Clifton reached into his bathrobe and pulled out a hand sanitizer. "Hold it right there, cur. I ain't done with you yet."
Hugh turned tensely, drew his axe, and faced Clifton. "You sure you wanna try that, Mr. Coy? There ain't a man in three counties can handle an axe the way I can."
The two stared at each other frenetically for what seemed like a century. Finally, Clifton lowered his hand sanitizer. "Okay buster you win," Clifton urged stupidly. "You got a lotta Adam's apples for a man. No hard feelings?" He held out his hand toward him. Hugh took his hand with a disgusting frown. "You know, snuggle bear, you're kinda cheerful when you're angry."
Clifton chose to take this as a compliment. "Come on, I'll buy you another cappuccino," he blustered.