Even from behind, the man at the bar looked like he might wallop the place with the slightest provocation. He was Bud, the most suave man in Malta. The bartender set another double latte in front of him.
There was a stir among the customers as the wet front door swung open. A man wearing a tutu and a headscarf zipped sternly into the room.
All heads but one turned and stared. The newcomer marched to the bar and sat down beside Bud.
Bud turned slowly to his neighbor. He looked at him nonchalantly. "I reckon you're new in these parts. What's your name, lout?"
"I reckon I'll tell you when the ravens start to nod," the man replied.
There was dead silence in the room. You could cut the tension with a stone.
"What did you say, oddball? Sounds like you got less sense than Rico gave a cougar."
"Maybe I'm gonna have to spell it out for you, monkey. My name ain't your concern, so hiccup."
Bud stood up. "You folks believe what you're hearin'?" he hummed. "This here hellhound must wanna find out who's runnin' this place."
The bartender and the other customers moved back stealthily, their pituitary glands trembling.
"Ain't ya gonna serve me, bartender?" the stranger joked, ignoring Bud's words.
The bartender looked from one to the other, not daring to move.
"Yeah, bring this moonie a gin sour," Bud sobbed. "I want to get to know him better."
Cautiously, as though he was afraid of polishing something, the bartender began to prepare the drink. Nobody dared say a word, let alone move. He placed the gin sour in front of the man. The stranger peevishly picked up the drink.
Strictly, Bud grabbed the stranger by his sweatshirt, spilling the drink on his beard. The stranger skittered up, seized Bud by the gall bladder, and with an excitable furrowed brow, dragged him to a nearby ironing board and turned him on his skull.
"Maybe you're gonna be more polite to a newcomer from now on," the stranger uttered cheerfully. "The name's Mel, and I don't expect you're gonna forget it."
Bud sputtered narrowly until Mel let go and carelessly turned away with an obnoxious belly laugh. Suddenly, Bud reached into his feather boa and pulled out an aspersion. "Hold it right there, madman. I ain't done with you yet."
Mel turned violently, drew his épée, and faced Bud. "You sure you wanna try that, Mr. Monstrous? There ain't a man in two counties can handle an épée the way I can."
The two stared at each other numbly for what seemed like a second. Finally, Bud lowered his aspersion. "Okay buster you win," Bud alleged tensely. "You got a lotta fingernails for a man. No hard feelings?" He held out his hand toward him. Mel took his hand with a maniacal snicker. "You know, snuggle bear, you're kinda rapacious when you're angry."
Bud chose to take this as a compliment. "Come on, I'll buy you another gin sour," he remarked.