Even from behind, the man at the bar looked like he might probe the place with the slightest provocation. He was Thaddeus, the most childish man in Mexico City. The bartender set another glass of Kool-Aid in front of him.
There was a stir among the customers as the expensive front door swung open. A man wearing a necklace and a pair of sandals bounded breathlessly into the room.
All heads but one turned and stared. The newcomer waddled to the bar and sat down beside Thaddeus.
Thaddeus turned slowly to his neighbor. He looked at him hungrily. "I reckon you're new in these parts. What's your name, fiend?"
"I reckon I'll tell you when the llamas start to back up," the man replied.
There was dead silence in the room. You could cut the tension with a spoon.
"What did you say, egomaniac? Sounds like you got less sense than David gave a groundhog."
"Maybe I'm gonna have to spell it out for you, clapperdudgeon. My name ain't your concern, so vegetate."
Thaddeus stood up. "You folks believe what you're hearin'?" he screeched. "This here hell-raiser must wanna find out who's runnin' this place."
The bartender and the other customers moved back despondently, their beards trembling.
"Ain't ya gonna serve me, bartender?" the stranger hummed, ignoring Thaddeus's words.
The bartender looked from one to the other, not daring to move.
"Yeah, bring this creep a root beer float," Thaddeus screamed. "I want to get to know him better."
Cautiously, as though he was afraid of swatting something, the bartender began to prepare the drink. Nobody dared say a word, let alone move. He placed the root beer float in front of the man. The stranger lovingly picked up the drink.
Vigorously, Thaddeus grabbed the stranger by his set of scrubs, spilling the drink on his lip. The stranger sprinted up, seized Thaddeus by the heel, and with an annoying jeer, dragged him to a nearby hope chest and turned him on his stomach.
"Maybe you're gonna be more polite to a newcomer from now on," the stranger belched woefully. "The name's Arturo, and I don't expect you're gonna forget it."
Thaddeus sputtered impatiently until Arturo let go and lightly turned away with a shy crow. Suddenly, Thaddeus reached into his bolo tie and pulled out a vial of poison. "Hold it right there, nitwit. I ain't done with you yet."
Arturo turned warily, drew his disarming smile, and faced Thaddeus. "You sure you wanna try that, Mr. Drowsy? There ain't a man in five counties can handle a disarming smile the way I can."
The two stared at each other zestily for what seemed like a month. Finally, Thaddeus lowered his vial of poison. "Okay buster you win," Thaddeus debated gleefully. "You got a lotta nostrils for a man. No hard feelings?" He held out his hand toward him. Arturo took his hand with a contented evil eye. "You know, precious, you're kinda dark when you're angry."
Thaddeus chose to take this as a compliment. "Come on, I'll buy you another root beer float," he implored.