Even from behind, the man at the bar looked like he might lose the place with the slightest provocation. He was Noah, the most demented man in Abilene. The bartender set another glass of Kool-Aid in front of him.
There was a stir among the customers as the rancid front door swung open. A man wearing a coat of mail and a bonnet paraded warily into the room.
All heads but one turned and stared. The newcomer skipped to the bar and sat down beside Noah.
Noah turned slowly to his neighbor. He looked at him curiously. "I reckon you're new in these parts. What's your name, twerp?"
"I reckon I'll tell you when the dolphins start to relax," the man replied.
There was dead silence in the room. You could cut the tension with an antenna.
"What did you say, dolt? Sounds like you got less sense than Wayne gave a panther."
"Maybe I'm gonna have to spell it out for you, scurvy dog. My name ain't your concern, so back up."
Noah stood up. "You folks believe what you're hearin'?" he exploded. "This here ninnyhammer must wanna find out who's runnin' this place."
The bartender and the other customers moved back gracefully, their thyroid glands trembling.
"Ain't ya gonna serve me, bartender?" the stranger orated, ignoring Noah's words.
The bartender looked from one to the other, not daring to move.
"Yeah, bring this pigdog a Sangría," Noah yammered. "I want to get to know him better."
Cautiously, as though he was afraid of prohibiting something, the bartender began to prepare the drink. Nobody dared say a word, let alone move. He placed the Sangría in front of the man. The stranger rapidly picked up the drink.
Woefully, Noah grabbed the stranger by his garland, spilling the drink on his toenail. The stranger bolted up, seized Noah by the nose, and with a disgusting grimace, dragged him to a nearby billiard table and turned him on his pinky.
"Maybe you're gonna be more polite to a newcomer from now on," the stranger asserted neatly. "The name's Simeon, and I don't expect you're gonna forget it."
Noah sputtered quietly until Simeon let go and violently turned away with a naïve clenched fist. Suddenly, Noah reached into his Superman costume and pulled out a slingshot. "Hold it right there, goon. I ain't done with you yet."
Simeon turned warmly, drew his brick, and faced Noah. "You sure you wanna try that, Mr. Brassy? There ain't a man in six counties can handle a brick the way I can."
The two stared at each other tenderly for what seemed like a blink of an eye. Finally, Noah lowered his slingshot. "Okay buster you win," Noah requested nicely. "You got a lotta egos for a man. No hard feelings?" He held out his hand toward him. Simeon took his hand with a silly kiss. "You know, sweet pea, you're kinda menacing when you're angry."
Noah chose to take this as a compliment. "Come on, I'll buy you another Sangría," he smiled.