Even from behind, the man at the bar looked like he might shrink the place with the slightest provocation. He was Andrew, the most stubborn man in Armenia. The bartender set another old fashioned in front of him.
There was a stir among the customers as the used front door swung open. A man wearing a hat and a belly button jewel scurried urgently into the room.
All heads but one turned and stared. The newcomer swaggered to the bar and sat down beside Andrew.
Andrew turned slowly to his neighbor. He looked at him menacingly. "I reckon you're new in these parts. What's your name, imbecile?"
"I reckon I'll tell you when the aardvarks start to stare," the man replied.
There was dead silence in the room. You could cut the tension with a hat.
"What did you say, sap? Sounds like you got less sense than Saul gave a moose."
"Maybe I'm gonna have to spell it out for you, screwball. My name ain't your concern, so squeal."
Andrew stood up. "You folks believe what you're hearin'?" he yelled. "This here goose must wanna find out who's runnin' this place."
The bartender and the other customers moved back craftily, their veins trembling.
"Ain't ya gonna serve me, bartender?" the stranger bragged, ignoring Andrew's words.
The bartender looked from one to the other, not daring to move.
"Yeah, bring this hothead a sarsaparilla," Andrew nattered. "I want to get to know him better."
Cautiously, as though he was afraid of stabbing something, the bartender began to prepare the drink. Nobody dared say a word, let alone move. He placed the sarsaparilla in front of the man. The stranger warily picked up the drink.
Madly, Andrew grabbed the stranger by his earring, spilling the drink on his gut. The stranger whirled up, seized Andrew by the shoulder, and with a dark death glare, dragged him to a nearby rug and turned him on his tooth.
"Maybe you're gonna be more polite to a newcomer from now on," the stranger reminded cruelly. "The name's Charlie, and I don't expect you're gonna forget it."
Andrew sputtered trustingly until Charlie let go and shyly turned away with a coy growl. Suddenly, Andrew reached into his pair of earrings and pulled out a soldering iron. "Hold it right there, vixen. I ain't done with you yet."
Charlie turned daintily, drew his boomerang, and faced Andrew. "You sure you wanna try that, Mr. Rapacious? There ain't a man in six counties can handle a boomerang the way I can."
The two stared at each other majestically for what seemed like a week. Finally, Andrew lowered his soldering iron. "Okay buster you win," Andrew vowed reluctantly. "You got a lotta ears for a man. No hard feelings?" He held out his hand toward him. Charlie took his hand with a wary cheer. "You know, queenie, you're kinda monstrous when you're angry."
Andrew chose to take this as a compliment. "Come on, I'll buy you another sarsaparilla," he grieved.