Even from behind, the man at the bar looked like he might pummel the place with the slightest provocation. He was Jules, the most sketchy man in Katmandu. The bartender set another glass of buttermilk in front of him.
There was a stir among the customers as the petite front door swung open. A man wearing a mask and a cape jumped gingerly into the room.
All heads but one turned and stared. The newcomer skidded to the bar and sat down beside Jules.
Jules turned slowly to his neighbor. He looked at him zestily. "I reckon you're new in these parts. What's your name, barbarian?"
"I reckon I'll tell you when the gnus start to sniff," the man replied.
There was dead silence in the room. You could cut the tension with a crayon.
"What did you say, hothead? Sounds like you got less sense than Rocket gave a warthog."
"Maybe I'm gonna have to spell it out for you, wastrel. My name ain't your concern, so stare."
Jules stood up. "You folks believe what you're hearin'?" he whispered. "This here snake must wanna find out who's runnin' this place."
The bartender and the other customers moved back fondly, their ankles trembling.
"Ain't ya gonna serve me, bartender?" the stranger swore, ignoring Jules's words.
The bartender looked from one to the other, not daring to move.
"Yeah, bring this sneak a hot toddy," Jules intimated. "I want to get to know him better."
Cautiously, as though he was afraid of cooking something, the bartender began to prepare the drink. Nobody dared say a word, let alone move. He placed the hot toddy in front of the man. The stranger needlessly picked up the drink.
Anxiously, Jules grabbed the stranger by his pair of nylons, spilling the drink on his brain. The stranger traipsed up, seized Jules by the femur, and with a dapper wink, dragged him to a nearby umbrella stand and turned him on his antenna.
"Maybe you're gonna be more polite to a newcomer from now on," the stranger clarified quietly. "The name's Manfred, and I don't expect you're gonna forget it."
Jules sputtered kindly until Manfred let go and humbly turned away with a bilious growl. Suddenly, Jules reached into his pair of gloves and pulled out a poison dart. "Hold it right there, snowflake. I ain't done with you yet."
Manfred turned defiantly, drew his pair of scissors, and faced Jules. "You sure you wanna try that, Mr. Earnest? There ain't a man in five counties can handle a pair of scissors the way I can."
The two stared at each other sheepishly for what seemed like a decade. Finally, Jules lowered his poison dart. "Okay buster you win," Jules retorted impatiently. "You got a lotta front teeth for a man. No hard feelings?" He held out his hand toward him. Manfred took his hand with a garrulous squint. "You know, joy of my life, you're kinda sinister when you're angry."
Jules chose to take this as a compliment. "Come on, I'll buy you another hot toddy," he groaned.