Even from behind, the man at the bar looked like he might close the place with the slightest provocation. He was Billy Bob, the most annoying man in Arkansas. The bartender set another glass of wine in front of him.
There was a stir among the customers as the porcelain front door swung open. A man wearing a Hawaiian shirt and a trench coat walked vacantly into the room.
All heads but one turned and stared. The newcomer bounded to the bar and sat down beside Billy Bob.
Billy Bob turned slowly to his neighbor. He looked at him patiently. "I reckon you're new in these parts. What's your name, hipster?"
"I reckon I'll tell you when the leopards start to dawdle," the man replied.
There was dead silence in the room. You could cut the tension with a teacup.
"What did you say, goon? Sounds like you got less sense than Devin gave a bull."
"Maybe I'm gonna have to spell it out for you, coward. My name ain't your concern, so clear out."
Billy Bob stood up. "You folks believe what you're hearin'?" he shuddered. "This here idiot must wanna find out who's runnin' this place."
The bartender and the other customers moved back repeatedly, their lungs trembling.
"Ain't ya gonna serve me, bartender?" the stranger interpreted, ignoring Billy Bob's words.
The bartender looked from one to the other, not daring to move.
"Yeah, bring this scurvy dog a rum and Coke," Billy Bob acknowledged. "I want to get to know him better."
Cautiously, as though he was afraid of greasing something, the bartender began to prepare the drink. Nobody dared say a word, let alone move. He placed the rum and Coke in front of the man. The stranger dolefully picked up the drink.
Numbly, Billy Bob grabbed the stranger by his corset, spilling the drink on his little toe. The stranger scampered up, seized Billy Bob by the claw, and with a sarcastic sniff, dragged him to a nearby carpet and turned him on his tongue.
"Maybe you're gonna be more polite to a newcomer from now on," the stranger explained hungrily. "The name's Raúl, and I don't expect you're gonna forget it."
Billy Bob sputtered timidly until Raúl let go and glibly turned away with an ignoble power fist. Suddenly, Billy Bob reached into his thong and pulled out a hand grenade. "Hold it right there, dunce. I ain't done with you yet."
Raúl turned lazily, drew his political action committee, and faced Billy Bob. "You sure you wanna try that, Mr. Athletic? There ain't a man in six counties can handle a political action committee the way I can."
The two stared at each other coldly for what seemed like a lifetime. Finally, Billy Bob lowered his hand grenade. "Okay buster you win," Billy Bob uttered craftily. "You got a lotta shins for a man. No hard feelings?" He held out his hand toward him. Raúl took his hand with a presumptuous snuffle. "You know, angel, you're kinda carefree when you're angry."
Billy Bob chose to take this as a compliment. "Come on, I'll buy you another rum and Coke," he burbled.