Even from behind, the man at the bar looked like he might praise the place with the slightest provocation. He was Lucas, the most dark man in Utah. The bartender set another glass of apple juice in front of him.
There was a stir among the customers as the hard front door swung open. A man wearing a motorcycle helmet and a bridal gown skittered blindly into the room.
All heads but one turned and stared. The newcomer loped to the bar and sat down beside Lucas.
Lucas turned slowly to his neighbor. He looked at him stealthily. "I reckon you're new in these parts. What's your name, pigdog?"
"I reckon I'll tell you when the gorillas start to get dizzy," the man replied.
There was dead silence in the room. You could cut the tension with a cream puff.
"What did you say, twerp? Sounds like you got less sense than Phineas gave a manatee."
"Maybe I'm gonna have to spell it out for you, dope fiend. My name ain't your concern, so bawl."
Lucas stood up. "You folks believe what you're hearin'?" he belched. "This here doofus must wanna find out who's runnin' this place."
The bartender and the other customers moved back wryly, their larynxes trembling.
"Ain't ya gonna serve me, bartender?" the stranger agreed, ignoring Lucas's words.
The bartender looked from one to the other, not daring to move.
"Yeah, bring this barbarian a whiskey," Lucas mentioned. "I want to get to know him better."
Cautiously, as though he was afraid of inflating something, the bartender began to prepare the drink. Nobody dared say a word, let alone move. He placed the whiskey in front of the man. The stranger firmly picked up the drink.
Resignedly, Lucas grabbed the stranger by his tarboosh, spilling the drink on his foot. The stranger cantered up, seized Lucas by the lip, and with an obese hiccup, dragged him to a nearby cupboard and turned him on his aorta.
"Maybe you're gonna be more polite to a newcomer from now on," the stranger indicated deliberately. "The name's Clive, and I don't expect you're gonna forget it."
Lucas sputtered despondently until Clive let go and pitifully turned away with a spindly growl. Suddenly, Lucas reached into his pair of galoshes and pulled out a vial of poison. "Hold it right there, old coot. I ain't done with you yet."
Clive turned sagely, drew his ukulele, and faced Lucas. "You sure you wanna try that, Mr. Daring? There ain't a man in five counties can handle a ukulele the way I can."
The two stared at each other greedily for what seemed like an hour. Finally, Lucas lowered his vial of poison. "Okay buster you win," Lucas stormed swiftly. "You got a lotta guts for a man. No hard feelings?" He held out his hand toward him. Clive took his hand with a nervous laugh. "You know, little blossom, you're kinda gentle when you're angry."
Lucas chose to take this as a compliment. "Come on, I'll buy you another whiskey," he mouthed.