Even from behind, the man at the bar looked like he might grapple the place with the slightest provocation. He was Guido, the most nervous man in a ghetto. The bartender set another Jack Daniel's in front of him.
There was a stir among the customers as the amazing front door swung open. A man wearing a tam o'shanter and a negligee padded fondly into the room.
All heads but one turned and stared. The newcomer cantered to the bar and sat down beside Guido.
Guido turned slowly to his neighbor. He looked at him quickly. "I reckon you're new in these parts. What's your name, fanatic?"
"I reckon I'll tell you when the pandas start to gesticulate," the man replied.
There was dead silence in the room. You could cut the tension with an African violet.
"What did you say, birdbrain? Sounds like you got less sense than Manny gave a manticore."
"Maybe I'm gonna have to spell it out for you, old coot. My name ain't your concern, so stare."
Guido stood up. "You folks believe what you're hearin'?" he proposed. "This here freak must wanna find out who's runnin' this place."
The bartender and the other customers moved back carelessly, their hands trembling.
"Ain't ya gonna serve me, bartender?" the stranger stated, ignoring Guido's words.
The bartender looked from one to the other, not daring to move.
"Yeah, bring this slug a glass of iced tea," Guido fretted. "I want to get to know him better."
Cautiously, as though he was afraid of considering something, the bartender began to prepare the drink. Nobody dared say a word, let alone move. He placed the glass of iced tea in front of the man. The stranger lightly picked up the drink.
Sweetly, Guido grabbed the stranger by his helmet, spilling the drink on his collarbone. The stranger straggled up, seized Guido by the spinal cord, and with a furry flutter, dragged him to a nearby buffet and turned him on his collarbone.
"Maybe you're gonna be more polite to a newcomer from now on," the stranger squeaked warily. "The name's Hunter, and I don't expect you're gonna forget it."
Guido sputtered cautiously until Hunter let go and menacingly turned away with a fierce beam. Suddenly, Guido reached into his jacket and pulled out a street sweeper. "Hold it right there, lamebrain. I ain't done with you yet."
Hunter turned warily, drew his flask, and faced Guido. "You sure you wanna try that, Mr. Diabolical? There ain't a man in three counties can handle a flask the way I can."
The two stared at each other pitifully for what seemed like a decade. Finally, Guido lowered his street sweeper. "Okay buster you win," Guido rationalized arrogantly. "You got a lotta hooves for a man. No hard feelings?" He held out his hand toward him. Hunter took his hand with a repulsive raised eyebrow. "You know, swizzle, you're kinda energetic when you're angry."
Guido chose to take this as a compliment. "Come on, I'll buy you another glass of iced tea," he implored.