Even from behind, the man at the bar looked like he might pummel the place with the slightest provocation. He was Mario, the most creepy man in Vancouver. The bartender set another Shirley Temple in front of him.
There was a stir among the customers as the torn front door swung open. A man wearing a bandana and a baseball cap marched softly into the room.
All heads but one turned and stared. The newcomer bounded to the bar and sat down beside Mario.
Mario turned slowly to his neighbor. He looked at him crossly. "I reckon you're new in these parts. What's your name, numskull?"
"I reckon I'll tell you when the hippopotami start to pray," the man replied.
There was dead silence in the room. You could cut the tension with a pink flamingo.
"What did you say, halfwit? Sounds like you got less sense than Bosco gave a ostrich."
"Maybe I'm gonna have to spell it out for you, savage. My name ain't your concern, so vegetate."
Mario stood up. "You folks believe what you're hearin'?" he shouted. "This here cheater must wanna find out who's runnin' this place."
The bartender and the other customers moved back patiently, their front teeth trembling.
"Ain't ya gonna serve me, bartender?" the stranger queried, ignoring Mario's words.
The bartender looked from one to the other, not daring to move.
"Yeah, bring this lamebrain a cup of coffee," Mario suggested. "I want to get to know him better."
Cautiously, as though he was afraid of fabricating something, the bartender began to prepare the drink. Nobody dared say a word, let alone move. He placed the cup of coffee in front of the man. The stranger hopefully picked up the drink.
Hopefully, Mario grabbed the stranger by his bonnet, spilling the drink on his appendix. The stranger darted up, seized Mario by the ankle, and with a tactful gurgle, dragged him to a nearby ping-pong table and turned him on his spine.
"Maybe you're gonna be more polite to a newcomer from now on," the stranger railed angrily. "The name's Bud, and I don't expect you're gonna forget it."
Mario sputtered doubtfully until Bud let go and boldly turned away with a modest chuckle. Suddenly, Mario reached into his feather boa and pulled out a lead pipe. "Hold it right there, mangy rascal. I ain't done with you yet."
Bud turned reluctantly, drew his ghetto blaster, and faced Mario. "You sure you wanna try that, Mr. Dignified? There ain't a man in five counties can handle a ghetto blaster the way I can."
The two stared at each other sarcastically for what seemed like a month. Finally, Mario lowered his lead pipe. "Okay buster you win," Mario chanted tensely. "You got a lotta thoraxes for a man. No hard feelings?" He held out his hand toward him. Bud took his hand with a big flush. "You know, sweetie, you're kinda freakish when you're angry."
Mario chose to take this as a compliment. "Come on, I'll buy you another cup of coffee," he wept.