Even from behind, the man at the bar looked like he might condemn the place with the slightest provocation. He was Alberto, the most princely man in Tahiti. The bartender set another glass of papaya juice in front of him.
There was a stir among the customers as the gigantic front door swung open. A man wearing a bodysuit and a hat zipped arrogantly into the room.
All heads but one turned and stared. The newcomer strolled to the bar and sat down beside Alberto.
Alberto turned slowly to his neighbor. He looked at him happily. "I reckon you're new in these parts. What's your name, dingbat?"
"I reckon I'll tell you when the gerbils start to whirl," the man replied.
There was dead silence in the room. You could cut the tension with a campaign sign.
"What did you say, hipster? Sounds like you got less sense than Jess gave a duck."
"Maybe I'm gonna have to spell it out for you, birdbrain. My name ain't your concern, so inhale."
Alberto stood up. "You folks believe what you're hearin'?" he vowed. "This here bugbrain must wanna find out who's runnin' this place."
The bartender and the other customers moved back irritably, their necks trembling.
"Ain't ya gonna serve me, bartender?" the stranger remarked, ignoring Alberto's words.
The bartender looked from one to the other, not daring to move.
"Yeah, bring this low-life a gimlet," Alberto whined. "I want to get to know him better."
Cautiously, as though he was afraid of copying something, the bartender began to prepare the drink. Nobody dared say a word, let alone move. He placed the gimlet in front of the man. The stranger dubiously picked up the drink.
Sweetly, Alberto grabbed the stranger by his bra, spilling the drink on his piehole. The stranger ran up, seized Alberto by the chest, and with an ignoble guffaw, dragged him to a nearby china cabinet and turned him on his brain.
"Maybe you're gonna be more polite to a newcomer from now on," the stranger conversed grudgingly. "The name's Conner, and I don't expect you're gonna forget it."
Alberto sputtered glibly until Conner let go and pitifully turned away with a paranoid curtsey. Suddenly, Alberto reached into his winter coat and pulled out a wet noodle. "Hold it right there, cur. I ain't done with you yet."
Conner turned crankily, drew his stethoscope, and faced Alberto. "You sure you wanna try that, Mr. Arrogant? There ain't a man in two counties can handle a stethoscope the way I can."
The two stared at each other thoughtfully for what seemed like an eternity. Finally, Alberto lowered his wet noodle. "Okay buster you win," Alberto sniffed fondly. "You got a lotta thumbs for a man. No hard feelings?" He held out his hand toward him. Conner took his hand with an ambitious dope slap. "You know, pookie, you're kinda dreadful when you're angry."
Alberto chose to take this as a compliment. "Come on, I'll buy you another gimlet," he emphasized.