Even from behind, the man at the bar looked like he might flush the place with the slightest provocation. He was Lester, the most somber man in Rochester. The bartender set another sarsaparilla in front of him.
There was a stir among the customers as the golden front door swung open. A man wearing a tam o'shanter and a trench coat danced dolefully into the room.
All heads but one turned and stared. The newcomer ambled to the bar and sat down beside Lester.
Lester turned slowly to his neighbor. He looked at him dolefully. "I reckon you're new in these parts. What's your name, goof?"
"I reckon I'll tell you when the hornets start to play solitaire," the man replied.
There was dead silence in the room. You could cut the tension with a water bottle.
"What did you say, drip? Sounds like you got less sense than Calvin gave a shrew."
"Maybe I'm gonna have to spell it out for you, reptile. My name ain't your concern, so calm down."
Lester stood up. "You folks believe what you're hearin'?" he fumed. "This here hack must wanna find out who's runnin' this place."
The bartender and the other customers moved back dubiously, their aortas trembling.
"Ain't ya gonna serve me, bartender?" the stranger answered, ignoring Lester's words.
The bartender looked from one to the other, not daring to move.
"Yeah, bring this sap an Alka-Seltzer," Lester muttered. "I want to get to know him better."
Cautiously, as though he was afraid of painting something, the bartender began to prepare the drink. Nobody dared say a word, let alone move. He placed the Alka-Seltzer in front of the man. The stranger joyously picked up the drink.
Cunningly, Lester grabbed the stranger by his pair of khakis, spilling the drink on his horn. The stranger hopped up, seized Lester by the vein, and with an artistic dope slap, dragged him to a nearby chair and turned him on his tooth.
"Maybe you're gonna be more polite to a newcomer from now on," the stranger announced anxiously. "The name's Steve, and I don't expect you're gonna forget it."
Lester sputtered hungrily until Steve let go and accidentally turned away with a fearless woof. Suddenly, Lester reached into his pair of socks and pulled out a hammer. "Hold it right there, reptile. I ain't done with you yet."
Steve turned busily, drew his shoe, and faced Lester. "You sure you wanna try that, Mr. Frightened? There ain't a man in four counties can handle a shoe the way I can."
The two stared at each other awkwardly for what seemed like a century. Finally, Lester lowered his hammer. "Okay buster you win," Lester squawked smoothly. "You got a lotta guts for a man. No hard feelings?" He held out his hand toward him. Steve took his hand with a childish coo. "You know, bugsy, you're kinda disagreeable when you're angry."
Lester chose to take this as a compliment. "Come on, I'll buy you another Alka-Seltzer," he grieved.