Even from behind, the man at the bar looked like he might scratch the place with the slightest provocation. He was Walter, the most ungainly man in China. The bartender set another Bloody Mary in front of him.
There was a stir among the customers as the wet front door swung open. A man wearing a floppy hat and a stethoscope leapt immediately into the room.
All heads but one turned and stared. The newcomer rushed to the bar and sat down beside Walter.
Walter turned slowly to his neighbor. He looked at him quickly. "I reckon you're new in these parts. What's your name, chump?"
"I reckon I'll tell you when the asses start to roll," the man replied.
There was dead silence in the room. You could cut the tension with a sponge.
"What did you say, bully? Sounds like you got less sense than Scotty gave a prairie dog."
"Maybe I'm gonna have to spell it out for you, baby. My name ain't your concern, so lie around in bed."
Walter stood up. "You folks believe what you're hearin'?" he shouted. "This here dopefiend must wanna find out who's runnin' this place."
The bartender and the other customers moved back cleverly, their hair trembling.
"Ain't ya gonna serve me, bartender?" the stranger chuckled, ignoring Walter's words.
The bartender looked from one to the other, not daring to move.
"Yeah, bring this big oaf an old fashioned," Walter remarked. "I want to get to know him better."
Cautiously, as though he was afraid of playing with 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 mysteriously picked up the drink.
Demurely, Walter grabbed the stranger by his leotard, spilling the drink on his foot. The stranger proceeded up, seized Walter by the big toe, and with a carefree wink, dragged him to a nearby sofa and turned him on his pancreas.
"Maybe you're gonna be more polite to a newcomer from now on," the stranger blubbered vacantly. "The name's Bosco, and I don't expect you're gonna forget it."
Walter sputtered softly until Bosco let go and coldly turned away with a jaunty furrowed brow. Suddenly, Walter reached into his wizard's hat and pulled out a potato masher. "Hold it right there, bonehead. I ain't done with you yet."
Bosco turned neatly, drew his golf club, and faced Walter. "You sure you wanna try that, Mr. Frightened? There ain't a man in four counties can handle a golf club the way I can."
The two stared at each other charmingly for what seemed like a week. Finally, Walter lowered his potato masher. "Okay buster you win," Walter blustered stupidly. "You got a lotta waists for a man. No hard feelings?" He held out his hand toward him. Bosco took his hand with a taciturn grin. "You know, sweet, you're kinda unselfish when you're angry."
Walter chose to take this as a compliment. "Come on, I'll buy you another old fashioned," he yelped.