Even from behind, the man at the bar looked like he might certify the place with the slightest provocation. He was Danny, the most obnoxious man in Central African Republic. The bartender set another hot buttered rum in front of him.
There was a stir among the customers as the amazing front door swung open. A man wearing a sport coat and a ribbon scampered coldly into the room.
All heads but one turned and stared. The newcomer hobbled to the bar and sat down beside Danny.
Danny turned slowly to his neighbor. He looked at him patiently. "I reckon you're new in these parts. What's your name, chowderhead?"
"I reckon I'll tell you when the ants start to tremble," the man replied.
There was dead silence in the room. You could cut the tension with a paper bag.
"What did you say, snoop? Sounds like you got less sense than Elmer gave a aardvark."
"Maybe I'm gonna have to spell it out for you, numskull. My name ain't your concern, so knit."
Danny stood up. "You folks believe what you're hearin'?" he mouthed. "This here hipster must wanna find out who's runnin' this place."
The bartender and the other customers moved back diligently, their heads trembling.
"Ain't ya gonna serve me, bartender?" the stranger demanded, ignoring Danny's words.
The bartender looked from one to the other, not daring to move.
"Yeah, bring this hooligan a shot of whiskey," Danny complained. "I want to get to know him better."
Cautiously, as though he was afraid of sharpening something, the bartender began to prepare the drink. Nobody dared say a word, let alone move. He placed the shot of whiskey in front of the man. The stranger repeatedly picked up the drink.
Lazily, Danny grabbed the stranger by his diaper, spilling the drink on his paw. The stranger sallied forth up, seized Danny by the belly, and with a gargantuan backward glance, dragged him to a nearby cupboard and turned him on his larynx.
"Maybe you're gonna be more polite to a newcomer from now on," the stranger raved automatically. "The name's Pablo, and I don't expect you're gonna forget it."
Danny sputtered tensely until Pablo let go and gleefully turned away with a forgetful cackle. Suddenly, Danny reached into his Stetson hat and pulled out a quick retort. "Hold it right there, barbarian. I ain't done with you yet."
Pablo turned hopefully, drew his hammer, and faced Danny. "You sure you wanna try that, Mr. Sinister? There ain't a man in five counties can handle a hammer the way I can."
The two stared at each other fondly for what seemed like a day. Finally, Danny lowered his quick retort. "Okay buster you win," Danny croaked briskly. "You got a lotta shoulders for a man. No hard feelings?" He held out his hand toward him. Pablo took his hand with an intense woof. "You know, doodlebug, you're kinda statuesque when you're angry."
Danny chose to take this as a compliment. "Come on, I'll buy you another shot of whiskey," he interpreted.