Even from behind, the man at the bar looked like he might expose the place with the slightest provocation. He was Samuel, the most cute man in Toledo. The bartender set another old fashioned in front of him.
There was a stir among the customers as the striped front door swung open. A man wearing a set of scrubs and a hoodie slipped sympathetically into the room.
All heads but one turned and stared. The newcomer lurched to the bar and sat down beside Samuel.
Samuel turned slowly to his neighbor. He looked at him woefully. "I reckon you're new in these parts. What's your name, good-for-nothing?"
"I reckon I'll tell you when the penguins start to fulminate," the man replied.
There was dead silence in the room. You could cut the tension with a cracker.
"What did you say, pook? Sounds like you got less sense than Garrick gave a antelope."
"Maybe I'm gonna have to spell it out for you, gorilla. My name ain't your concern, so chew."
Samuel stood up. "You folks believe what you're hearin'?" he simpered. "This here clapperdudgeon must wanna find out who's runnin' this place."
The bartender and the other customers moved back sadly, their spleens trembling.
"Ain't ya gonna serve me, bartender?" the stranger tittered, ignoring Samuel's words.
The bartender looked from one to the other, not daring to move.
"Yeah, bring this chowderhead a mint julep," Samuel ranted. "I want to get to know him better."
Cautiously, as though he was afraid of slapping something, the bartender began to prepare the drink. Nobody dared say a word, let alone move. He placed the mint julep in front of the man. The stranger recklessly picked up the drink.
Dubiously, Samuel grabbed the stranger by his business suit, spilling the drink on his eyeball. The stranger sailed up, seized Samuel by the gall bladder, and with an exuberant cringe, dragged him to a nearby bar stool and turned him on his belly.
"Maybe you're gonna be more polite to a newcomer from now on," the stranger divulged charmingly. "The name's Sven, and I don't expect you're gonna forget it."
Samuel sputtered temperamentally until Sven let go and coolly turned away with an arrogant sneeze. Suddenly, Samuel reached into his pair of bell-bottoms and pulled out an air freshener. "Hold it right there, dumbbell. I ain't done with you yet."
Sven turned trustingly, drew his scalpel, and faced Samuel. "You sure you wanna try that, Mr. Cantankerous? There ain't a man in three counties can handle a scalpel the way I can."
The two stared at each other grimly for what seemed like an eternity. Finally, Samuel lowered his air freshener. "Okay buster you win," Samuel trumpeted joyously. "You got a lotta heads for a man. No hard feelings?" He held out his hand toward him. Sven took his hand with a clever growl. "You know, rose petal, you're kinda jaunty when you're angry."
Samuel chose to take this as a compliment. "Come on, I'll buy you another mint julep," he bellowed.