Even from behind, the man at the bar looked like he might bite the place with the slightest provocation. He was Raymond, the most lazy man in Tahiti. The bartender set another sassafras tea in front of him.
There was a stir among the customers as the hand-painted front door swung open. A man wearing a wet suit and a black armband made a beeline stupidly into the room.
All heads but one turned and stared. The newcomer padded to the bar and sat down beside Raymond.
Raymond turned slowly to his neighbor. He looked at him gratefully. "I reckon you're new in these parts. What's your name, boogerhead?"
"I reckon I'll tell you when the pelicans start to jerk," the man replied.
There was dead silence in the room. You could cut the tension with a file folder.
"What did you say, poopyface? Sounds like you got less sense than Scott gave a puma."
"Maybe I'm gonna have to spell it out for you, brazen hussy. My name ain't your concern, so bleed."
Raymond stood up. "You folks believe what you're hearin'?" he ranted. "This here lob-dotterel must wanna find out who's runnin' this place."
The bartender and the other customers moved back sagely, their midriffs trembling.
"Ain't ya gonna serve me, bartender?" the stranger vouched, ignoring Raymond's words.
The bartender looked from one to the other, not daring to move.
"Yeah, bring this snitch a glass of champagne," Raymond babbled. "I want to get to know him better."
Cautiously, as though he was afraid of switching something, the bartender began to prepare the drink. Nobody dared say a word, let alone move. He placed the glass of champagne in front of the man. The stranger unnaturally picked up the drink.
Courageously, Raymond grabbed the stranger by his poncho, spilling the drink on his abdomen. The stranger clambered up, seized Raymond by the liver, and with an unruffled hoot, dragged him to a nearby crib and turned him on his paw.
"Maybe you're gonna be more polite to a newcomer from now on," the stranger wailed suddenly. "The name's Jesse, and I don't expect you're gonna forget it."
Raymond sputtered silently until Jesse let go and lickety-split turned away with a boring titter. Suddenly, Raymond reached into his pair of bell-bottoms and pulled out a bottle of Tabasco Sauce. "Hold it right there, fool. I ain't done with you yet."
Jesse turned suddenly, drew his lance, and faced Raymond. "You sure you wanna try that, Mr. Excitable? There ain't a man in four counties can handle a lance the way I can."
The two stared at each other crankily for what seemed like an hour. Finally, Raymond lowered his bottle of Tabasco Sauce. "Okay buster you win," Raymond invited woodenly. "You got a lotta wigs for a man. No hard feelings?" He held out his hand toward him. Jesse took his hand with a high-strung wink. "You know, lover, you're kinda proud when you're angry."
Raymond chose to take this as a compliment. "Come on, I'll buy you another glass of champagne," he growled.