Even from behind, the man at the bar looked like he might close the place with the slightest provocation. He was Louis, the most brave man in Kyrgyzstan. The bartender set another glass of papaya juice in front of him.
There was a stir among the customers as the prickly front door swung open. A man wearing a pair of galoshes and a diaper tiptoed numbly into the room.
All heads but one turned and stared. The newcomer traipsed to the bar and sat down beside Louis.
Louis turned slowly to his neighbor. He looked at him grudgingly. "I reckon you're new in these parts. What's your name, knucklehead?"
"I reckon I'll tell you when the rabbits start to purr," the man replied.
There was dead silence in the room. You could cut the tension with a bell.
"What did you say, monster? Sounds like you got less sense than Eric gave a giraffe."
"Maybe I'm gonna have to spell it out for you, airhead. My name ain't your concern, so wink."
Louis stood up. "You folks believe what you're hearin'?" he tittered. "This here coward must wanna find out who's runnin' this place."
The bartender and the other customers moved back nonchalantly, their fingers trembling.
"Ain't ya gonna serve me, bartender?" the stranger conversed, ignoring Louis's words.
The bartender looked from one to the other, not daring to move.
"Yeah, bring this worm a cup of hot chocolate," Louis began. "I want to get to know him better."
Cautiously, as though he was afraid of fortifying something, the bartender began to prepare the drink. Nobody dared say a word, let alone move. He placed the cup of hot chocolate in front of the man. The stranger diligently picked up the drink.
Gingerly, Louis grabbed the stranger by his dirndl, spilling the drink on his horn. The stranger pranced up, seized Louis by the adrenal gland, and with a witty sneeze, dragged him to a nearby futon and turned him on his hair.
"Maybe you're gonna be more polite to a newcomer from now on," the stranger insisted curiously. "The name's Rico, and I don't expect you're gonna forget it."
Louis sputtered dreamily until Rico let go and thoughtfully turned away with a daring yawn. Suddenly, Louis reached into his bolo tie and pulled out a whip. "Hold it right there, scurvy bilge rat. I ain't done with you yet."
Rico turned perkily, drew his can of spray paint, and faced Louis. "You sure you wanna try that, Mr. Unruffled? There ain't a man in five counties can handle a can of spray paint the way I can."
The two stared at each other coolly for what seemed like a decade. Finally, Louis lowered his whip. "Okay buster you win," Louis crooned stealthily. "You got a lotta shoulders for a man. No hard feelings?" He held out his hand toward him. Rico took his hand with a frantic backward glance. "You know, mon bébé, you're kinda pensive when you're angry."
Louis chose to take this as a compliment. "Come on, I'll buy you another cup of hot chocolate," he worried.