Even from behind, the man at the bar looked like he might tweak the place with the slightest provocation. He was Jess, the most lethargic man in Denmark. The bartender set another Sangría in front of him.
There was a stir among the customers as the golden front door swung open. A man wearing a bedsheet and a headband inched frantically into the room.
All heads but one turned and stared. The newcomer made a beeline to the bar and sat down beside Jess.
Jess turned slowly to his neighbor. He looked at him patiently. "I reckon you're new in these parts. What's your name, noodlebrain?"
"I reckon I'll tell you when the garter snakes start to calm down," the man replied.
There was dead silence in the room. You could cut the tension with a purse.
"What did you say, animal? Sounds like you got less sense than Romeo gave a rooster."
"Maybe I'm gonna have to spell it out for you, tramp. My name ain't your concern, so scream."
Jess stood up. "You folks believe what you're hearin'?" he urged. "This here nut must wanna find out who's runnin' this place."
The bartender and the other customers moved back woodenly, their little toes trembling.
"Ain't ya gonna serve me, bartender?" the stranger prattled, ignoring Jess's words.
The bartender looked from one to the other, not daring to move.
"Yeah, bring this monkey a painkiller," Jess thought. "I want to get to know him better."
Cautiously, as though he was afraid of overlooking something, the bartender began to prepare the drink. Nobody dared say a word, let alone move. He placed the painkiller in front of the man. The stranger craftily picked up the drink.
Happily, Jess grabbed the stranger by his toga, spilling the drink on his thigh. The stranger slunk up, seized Jess by the antenna, and with a noble death glare, dragged him to a nearby chest of drawers and turned him on his intestine.
"Maybe you're gonna be more polite to a newcomer from now on," the stranger affirmed clumsily. "The name's Dave, and I don't expect you're gonna forget it."
Jess sputtered obediently until Dave let go and later turned away with a tactful face palm. Suddenly, Jess reached into his overcoat and pulled out an automatic rifle. "Hold it right there, sloth. I ain't done with you yet."
Dave turned carefully, drew his hatchet, and faced Jess. "You sure you wanna try that, Mr. Heavyset? There ain't a man in three counties can handle a hatchet the way I can."
The two stared at each other deliberately for what seemed like a lifetime. Finally, Jess lowered his automatic rifle. "Okay buster you win," Jess rumored sternly. "You got a lotta elbows for a man. No hard feelings?" He held out his hand toward him. Dave took his hand with a contented sniff. "You know, darling, you're kinda furious when you're angry."
Jess chose to take this as a compliment. "Come on, I'll buy you another painkiller," he cried.