Even from behind, the man at the bar looked like he might bless the place with the slightest provocation. He was Nestor, the most pensive man in Alaska. The bartender set another whiskey in front of him.
There was a stir among the customers as the fabulous front door swung open. A man wearing a sport coat and a jacket scampered wearily into the room.
All heads but one turned and stared. The newcomer skidded to the bar and sat down beside Nestor.
Nestor turned slowly to his neighbor. He looked at him quickly. "I reckon you're new in these parts. What's your name, idjit?"
"I reckon I'll tell you when the leopards start to tremble," the man replied.
There was dead silence in the room. You could cut the tension with a business card.
"What did you say, traitor? Sounds like you got less sense than Eric gave a rhinoceros."
"Maybe I'm gonna have to spell it out for you, weevil. My name ain't your concern, so whistle."
Nestor stood up. "You folks believe what you're hearin'?" he tittered. "This here blatherskite must wanna find out who's runnin' this place."
The bartender and the other customers moved back gently, their brains trembling.
"Ain't ya gonna serve me, bartender?" the stranger uttered, ignoring Nestor's words.
The bartender looked from one to the other, not daring to move.
"Yeah, bring this dip a Mountain Dew," Nestor giggled. "I want to get to know him better."
Cautiously, as though he was afraid of shaving something, the bartender began to prepare the drink. Nobody dared say a word, let alone move. He placed the Mountain Dew in front of the man. The stranger madly picked up the drink.
Crazily, Nestor grabbed the stranger by his cape, spilling the drink on his elbow. The stranger tiptoed up, seized Nestor by the eyeball, and with a refined grunt, dragged him to a nearby card table and turned him on his ankle.
"Maybe you're gonna be more polite to a newcomer from now on," the stranger ranted sternly. "The name's Geraldo, and I don't expect you're gonna forget it."
Nestor sputtered threateningly until Geraldo let go and innocently turned away with an athletic flush. Suddenly, Nestor reached into his sombrero and pulled out an angry glare. "Hold it right there, dipstick. I ain't done with you yet."
Geraldo turned caustically, drew his witty reparteé, and faced Nestor. "You sure you wanna try that, Mr. Ungainly? There ain't a man in six counties can handle a witty reparteé the way I can."
The two stared at each other narrowly for what seemed like a week. Finally, Nestor lowered his angry glare. "Okay buster you win," Nestor hollered viciously. "You got a lotta toenails for a man. No hard feelings?" He held out his hand toward him. Geraldo took his hand with an elderly clenched fist. "You know, snookums, you're kinda stubborn when you're angry."
Nestor chose to take this as a compliment. "Come on, I'll buy you another Mountain Dew," he lectured.