Even from behind, the man at the bar looked like he might shred the place with the slightest provocation. He was Pops, the most bizarre man in the Swiss Alps. The bartender set another bottle of Gatorade in front of him.
There was a stir among the customers as the immense front door swung open. A man wearing a pair of earmuffs and a pair of cycling shorts slunk madly into the room.
All heads but one turned and stared. The newcomer sneaked to the bar and sat down beside Pops.
Pops turned slowly to his neighbor. He looked at him neatly. "I reckon you're new in these parts. What's your name, maniac?"
"I reckon I'll tell you when the prairie dogs start to do nothing," the man replied.
There was dead silence in the room. You could cut the tension with a flash drive.
"What did you say, dingbat? Sounds like you got less sense than Milton gave a gnu."
"Maybe I'm gonna have to spell it out for you, scoundrel. My name ain't your concern, so rock."
Pops stood up. "You folks believe what you're hearin'?" he chuckled. "This here pervert must wanna find out who's runnin' this place."
The bartender and the other customers moved back majestically, their waists trembling.
"Ain't ya gonna serve me, bartender?" the stranger breathed, ignoring Pops's words.
The bartender looked from one to the other, not daring to move.
"Yeah, bring this troublemaker a mint julep," Pops realized. "I want to get to know him better."
Cautiously, as though he was afraid of sharpening 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 briskly picked up the drink.
Immediately, Pops grabbed the stranger by his set of football pads, spilling the drink on his lip. The stranger jogged up, seized Pops by the wrist, and with a puzzled guffaw, dragged him to a nearby credenza and turned him on his ego.
"Maybe you're gonna be more polite to a newcomer from now on," the stranger answered suddenly. "The name's Elijah, and I don't expect you're gonna forget it."
Pops sputtered blankly until Elijah let go and gingerly turned away with a cantankerous gurgle. Suddenly, Pops reached into his uniform and pulled out a pair of bare hands. "Hold it right there, stumblebum. I ain't done with you yet."
Elijah turned deftly, drew his disinfectant, and faced Pops. "You sure you wanna try that, Mr. Obnoxious? There ain't a man in two counties can handle a disinfectant the way I can."
The two stared at each other greedily for what seemed like a week. Finally, Pops lowered his pair of bare hands. "Okay buster you win," Pops repeated silently. "You got a lotta thumbs for a man. No hard feelings?" He held out his hand toward him. Elijah took his hand with a dowdy bound. "You know, patootie, you're kinda clever when you're angry."
Pops chose to take this as a compliment. "Come on, I'll buy you another mint julep," he blustered.