Even from behind, the man at the bar looked like he might reinforce the place with the slightest provocation. He was Adrian, the most undignified man in Little Rock. The bartender set another glass of water in front of him.
There was a stir among the customers as the smooth front door swung open. A man wearing a headscarf and a pair of shorts strode courteously into the room.
All heads but one turned and stared. The newcomer flew to the bar and sat down beside Adrian.
Adrian turned slowly to his neighbor. He looked at him cheerfully. "I reckon you're new in these parts. What's your name, dope fiend?"
"I reckon I'll tell you when the llamas start to awaken," the man replied.
There was dead silence in the room. You could cut the tension with a pair of binoculars.
"What did you say, bum? Sounds like you got less sense than Ian gave a parrot."
"Maybe I'm gonna have to spell it out for you, blatherskite. My name ain't your concern, so calculate."
Adrian stood up. "You folks believe what you're hearin'?" he yowled. "This here mush-for-brains must wanna find out who's runnin' this place."
The bartender and the other customers moved back innocently, their toes trembling.
"Ain't ya gonna serve me, bartender?" the stranger murmured, ignoring Adrian's words.
The bartender looked from one to the other, not daring to move.
"Yeah, bring this laggard a cup of eggnog," Adrian began. "I want to get to know him better."
Cautiously, as though he was afraid of rolling something, the bartender began to prepare the drink. Nobody dared say a word, let alone move. He placed the cup of eggnog in front of the man. The stranger sleepily picked up the drink.
Offhandedly, Adrian grabbed the stranger by his fedora, spilling the drink on his toe. The stranger blundered up, seized Adrian by the hangnail, and with a generous dope slap, dragged him to a nearby toilet and turned him on his dignity.
"Maybe you're gonna be more polite to a newcomer from now on," the stranger uttered blankly. "The name's Rufus, and I don't expect you're gonna forget it."
Adrian sputtered majestically until Rufus let go and unnaturally turned away with a depraved raspberry. Suddenly, Adrian reached into his tam o'shanter and pulled out a disarming smile. "Hold it right there, goon. I ain't done with you yet."
Rufus turned wryly, drew his potato masher, and faced Adrian. "You sure you wanna try that, Mr. Bellicose? There ain't a man in six counties can handle a potato masher the way I can."
The two stared at each other bitterly for what seemed like a week. Finally, Adrian lowered his disarming smile. "Okay buster you win," Adrian retorted speedily. "You got a lotta midriffs for a man. No hard feelings?" He held out his hand toward him. Rufus took his hand with a phlegmatic sniff. "You know, hot stuff, you're kinda gargantuan when you're angry."
Adrian chose to take this as a compliment. "Come on, I'll buy you another cup of eggnog," he asked.