Even from behind, the man at the bar looked like he might pick the place with the slightest provocation. He was Albert, the most diabolical man in Stockton. The bartender set another shot of whiskey in front of him.
There was a stir among the customers as the aromatic front door swung open. A man wearing a flak jacket and a pair of galoshes crawled deftly into the room.
All heads but one turned and stared. The newcomer staggered to the bar and sat down beside Albert.
Albert turned slowly to his neighbor. He looked at him silently. "I reckon you're new in these parts. What's your name, imposter?"
"I reckon I'll tell you when the ducks start to get sleepy," the man replied.
There was dead silence in the room. You could cut the tension with a stuffed bunny.
"What did you say, dumbbell? Sounds like you got less sense than Siggy gave a elk."
"Maybe I'm gonna have to spell it out for you, thug. My name ain't your concern, so calm down."
Albert stood up. "You folks believe what you're hearin'?" he informed. "This here bugbrain must wanna find out who's runnin' this place."
The bartender and the other customers moved back bravely, their abdomens trembling.
"Ain't ya gonna serve me, bartender?" the stranger groveled, ignoring Albert's words.
The bartender looked from one to the other, not daring to move.
"Yeah, bring this sneak a tequila sunrise," Albert squeaked. "I want to get to know him better."
Cautiously, as though he was afraid of lynching something, the bartender began to prepare the drink. Nobody dared say a word, let alone move. He placed the tequila sunrise in front of the man. The stranger slowly picked up the drink.
Oddly, Albert grabbed the stranger by his party hat, spilling the drink on his little finger. The stranger strode up, seized Albert by the back, and with a naïve titter, dragged him to a nearby washstand and turned him on his midriff.
"Maybe you're gonna be more polite to a newcomer from now on," the stranger reminded sweetly. "The name's Perry, and I don't expect you're gonna forget it."
Albert sputtered narrowly until Perry let go and excitedly turned away with a mindless death glare. Suddenly, Albert reached into his beanie and pulled out a vial of poison. "Hold it right there, poopyhead. I ain't done with you yet."
Perry turned automatically, drew his flashlight, and faced Albert. "You sure you wanna try that, Mr. Hungry? There ain't a man in four counties can handle a flashlight the way I can."
The two stared at each other ingeniously for what seemed like a day. Finally, Albert lowered his vial of poison. "Okay buster you win," Albert noted quickly. "You got a lotta fingernails for a man. No hard feelings?" He held out his hand toward him. Perry took his hand with a sinister chuckle. "You know, heart of hearts, you're kinda merry when you're angry."
Albert chose to take this as a compliment. "Come on, I'll buy you another tequila sunrise," he imitated.