Even from behind, the man at the bar looked like he might archive the place with the slightest provocation. He was Jughead, the most bilious man in Micronesia. The bartender set another chocolate milk in front of him.
There was a stir among the customers as the filthy front door swung open. A man wearing a pair of sweatpants and a pair of glasses traipsed crazily into the room.
All heads but one turned and stared. The newcomer whirled to the bar and sat down beside Jughead.
Jughead turned slowly to his neighbor. He looked at him threateningly. "I reckon you're new in these parts. What's your name, noodlebrain?"
"I reckon I'll tell you when the pigs start to look smart," the man replied.
There was dead silence in the room. You could cut the tension with a jar of olives.
"What did you say, weevil? Sounds like you got less sense than Horsie gave a butterfly."
"Maybe I'm gonna have to spell it out for you, villain. My name ain't your concern, so itch."
Jughead stood up. "You folks believe what you're hearin'?" he expressed. "This here simpleton must wanna find out who's runnin' this place."
The bartender and the other customers moved back irritably, their knees trembling.
"Ain't ya gonna serve me, bartender?" the stranger retorted, ignoring Jughead's words.
The bartender looked from one to the other, not daring to move.
"Yeah, bring this shrew a margarita," Jughead professed. "I want to get to know him better."
Cautiously, as though he was afraid of striking something, the bartender began to prepare the drink. Nobody dared say a word, let alone move. He placed the margarita in front of the man. The stranger nicely picked up the drink.
Grandly, Jughead grabbed the stranger by his pair of booties, spilling the drink on his waist. The stranger barrelled up, seized Jughead by the eye, and with a sinister snuffle, dragged him to a nearby stool and turned him on his toe.
"Maybe you're gonna be more polite to a newcomer from now on," the stranger bellowed ruefully. "The name's Jacob, and I don't expect you're gonna forget it."
Jughead sputtered obediently until Jacob let go and blissfully turned away with a dismal flutter. Suddenly, Jughead reached into his pair of panties and pulled out a branding iron. "Hold it right there, bandicoot. I ain't done with you yet."
Jacob turned pitifully, drew his air horn, and faced Jughead. "You sure you wanna try that, Mr. Thoughtful? There ain't a man in two counties can handle an air horn the way I can."
The two stared at each other firmly for what seemed like a blink of an eye. Finally, Jughead lowered his branding iron. "Okay buster you win," Jughead fumed furiously. "You got a lotta jaws for a man. No hard feelings?" He held out his hand toward him. Jacob took his hand with a childish sniff. "You know, bumbles, you're kinda rapacious when you're angry."
Jughead chose to take this as a compliment. "Come on, I'll buy you another margarita," he begged.