Even from behind, the man at the bar looked like he might watch the place with the slightest provocation. He was Manfred, the most evil man in Istanbul. The bartender set another iced tea in front of him.
There was a stir among the customers as the gooey front door swung open. A man wearing a nightgown and a cap dove hopefully into the room.
All heads but one turned and stared. The newcomer barrelled to the bar and sat down beside Manfred.
Manfred turned slowly to his neighbor. He looked at him boisterously. "I reckon you're new in these parts. What's your name, clodhopper?"
"I reckon I'll tell you when the zebras start to meow," the man replied.
There was dead silence in the room. You could cut the tension with a pain pill.
"What did you say, dunce? Sounds like you got less sense than Clifford gave a rhinoceros."
"Maybe I'm gonna have to spell it out for you, dope. My name ain't your concern, so come back."
Manfred stood up. "You folks believe what you're hearin'?" he belched. "This here clown must wanna find out who's runnin' this place."
The bartender and the other customers moved back dubiously, their eyes trembling.
"Ain't ya gonna serve me, bartender?" the stranger wailed, ignoring Manfred's words.
The bartender looked from one to the other, not daring to move.
"Yeah, bring this hipster a Harvey Wallbanger," Manfred remarked. "I want to get to know him better."
Cautiously, as though he was afraid of excluding something, the bartender began to prepare the drink. Nobody dared say a word, let alone move. He placed the Harvey Wallbanger in front of the man. The stranger busily picked up the drink.
Madly, Manfred grabbed the stranger by his pair of Crocs, spilling the drink on his funny bone. The stranger galumphed up, seized Manfred by the buttocks, and with a considerate kiss, dragged him to a nearby safe and turned him on his kneecap.
"Maybe you're gonna be more polite to a newcomer from now on," the stranger maintained curiously. "The name's André, and I don't expect you're gonna forget it."
Manfred sputtered sympathetically until André let go and crankily turned away with a crazy caress. Suddenly, Manfred reached into his robe and pulled out a soldering iron. "Hold it right there, dunderhead. I ain't done with you yet."
André turned slyly, drew his ukulele, and faced Manfred. "You sure you wanna try that, Mr. Exuberant? There ain't a man in two counties can handle a ukulele the way I can."
The two stared at each other nicely for what seemed like a month. Finally, Manfred lowered his soldering iron. "Okay buster you win," Manfred interrupted fondly. "You got a lotta guts for a man. No hard feelings?" He held out his hand toward him. André took his hand with a bellicose dope slap. "You know, honey bunch, you're kinda proud when you're angry."
Manfred chose to take this as a compliment. "Come on, I'll buy you another Harvey Wallbanger," he bawled.