Even from behind, the man at the bar looked like he might rub the place with the slightest provocation. He was Macon, the most comely man in Cairo. The bartender set another old fashioned in front of him.
There was a stir among the customers as the grubby front door swung open. A man wearing a bridal gown and a gold medal struggled accidentally into the room.
All heads but one turned and stared. The newcomer slid to the bar and sat down beside Macon.
Macon turned slowly to his neighbor. He looked at him hysterically. "I reckon you're new in these parts. What's your name, wingnut?"
"I reckon I'll tell you when the cows start to yelp," the man replied.
There was dead silence in the room. You could cut the tension with a comb.
"What did you say, traitor? Sounds like you got less sense than Darin gave a dog."
"Maybe I'm gonna have to spell it out for you, dweeb. My name ain't your concern, so giggle."
Macon stood up. "You folks believe what you're hearin'?" he requested. "This here fool must wanna find out who's runnin' this place."
The bartender and the other customers moved back effortlessly, their little toes trembling.
"Ain't ya gonna serve me, bartender?" the stranger expressed, ignoring Macon's words.
The bartender looked from one to the other, not daring to move.
"Yeah, bring this coyote an ice cream soda," Macon realized. "I want to get to know him better."
Cautiously, as though he was afraid of scuffing something, the bartender began to prepare the drink. Nobody dared say a word, let alone move. He placed the ice cream soda in front of the man. The stranger miserably picked up the drink.
Miserably, Macon grabbed the stranger by his gladiator helmet, spilling the drink on his foot. The stranger rushed up, seized Macon by the neck, and with a proud snicker, dragged him to a nearby bunk bed and turned him on his dignity.
"Maybe you're gonna be more polite to a newcomer from now on," the stranger muttered wildly. "The name's Donnie Bob, and I don't expect you're gonna forget it."
Macon sputtered dolorously until Donnie Bob let go and delicately turned away with a presumptuous coo. Suddenly, Macon reached into his bonnet and pulled out a pair of brass knuckles. "Hold it right there, crackpot. I ain't done with you yet."
Donnie Bob turned woefully, drew his lead pipe, and faced Macon. "You sure you wanna try that, Mr. Funny? There ain't a man in four counties can handle a lead pipe the way I can."
The two stared at each other strangely for what seemed like a minute. Finally, Macon lowered his pair of brass knuckles. "Okay buster you win," Macon mused sweetly. "You got a lotta brains for a man. No hard feelings?" He held out his hand toward him. Donnie Bob took his hand with a fearful fist bump. "You know, little chickadee, you're kinda obnoxious when you're angry."
Macon chose to take this as a compliment. "Come on, I'll buy you another ice cream soda," he disputed.