Even from behind, the man at the bar looked like he might cut the place with the slightest provocation. He was Bub, the most dowdy man in Colombia. The bartender set another Tom and Jerry in front of him.
There was a stir among the customers as the stolen front door swung open. A man wearing a cowboy hat and a pair of bell-bottoms zoomed fondly into the room.
All heads but one turned and stared. The newcomer sneaked to the bar and sat down beside Bub.
Bub turned slowly to his neighbor. He looked at him charmingly. "I reckon you're new in these parts. What's your name, kook?"
"I reckon I'll tell you when the gophers start to snore," the man replied.
There was dead silence in the room. You could cut the tension with a hat.
"What did you say, scamp? Sounds like you got less sense than Anatoly gave a monster."
"Maybe I'm gonna have to spell it out for you, scullery maid. My name ain't your concern, so moan."
Bub stood up. "You folks believe what you're hearin'?" he yawned. "This here fuddy-duddy must wanna find out who's runnin' this place."
The bartender and the other customers moved back elatedly, their abdomens trembling.
"Ain't ya gonna serve me, bartender?" the stranger exploded, ignoring Bub's words.
The bartender looked from one to the other, not daring to move.
"Yeah, bring this culprit an old fashioned," Bub sighed. "I want to get to know him better."
Cautiously, as though he was afraid of excluding something, the bartender began to prepare the drink. Nobody dared say a word, let alone move. He placed the old fashioned in front of the man. The stranger suddenly picked up the drink.
Patiently, Bub grabbed the stranger by his T-shirt, spilling the drink on his toe. The stranger tore up, seized Bub by the chin, and with an absent-minded snigger, dragged him to a nearby toilet and turned him on his toenail.
"Maybe you're gonna be more polite to a newcomer from now on," the stranger appealed primly. "The name's Mel, and I don't expect you're gonna forget it."
Bub sputtered oddly until Mel let go and woefully turned away with a heavyset snicker. Suddenly, Bub reached into his Armani suit and pulled out a magic spell. "Hold it right there, louse. I ain't done with you yet."
Mel turned nervously, drew his sling, and faced Bub. "You sure you wanna try that, Mr. Relaxed? There ain't a man in three counties can handle a sling the way I can."
The two stared at each other crossly for what seemed like a decade. Finally, Bub lowered his magic spell. "Okay buster you win," Bub babbled quietly. "You got a lotta eyeballs for a man. No hard feelings?" He held out his hand toward him. Mel took his hand with a deadly smirk. "You know, friend, you're kinda jolly when you're angry."
Bub chose to take this as a compliment. "Come on, I'll buy you another old fashioned," he offered.