Even from behind, the man at the bar looked like he might chop the place with the slightest provocation. He was Beauford, the most fearless man in Benin. The bartender set another Tom Collins in front of him.
There was a stir among the customers as the old front door swung open. A man wearing a nose ring and a pair of panties traipsed jokingly into the room.
All heads but one turned and stared. The newcomer trekked to the bar and sat down beside Beauford.
Beauford turned slowly to his neighbor. He looked at him victoriously. "I reckon you're new in these parts. What's your name, wuss?"
"I reckon I'll tell you when the teddy bears start to come back," the man replied.
There was dead silence in the room. You could cut the tension with a candle.
"What did you say, old buzzard? Sounds like you got less sense than Daniel gave a baboon."
"Maybe I'm gonna have to spell it out for you, demon. My name ain't your concern, so buzz."
Beauford stood up. "You folks believe what you're hearin'?" he roared. "This here scalawag must wanna find out who's runnin' this place."
The bartender and the other customers moved back madly, their shins trembling.
"Ain't ya gonna serve me, bartender?" the stranger sniveled, ignoring Beauford's words.
The bartender looked from one to the other, not daring to move.
"Yeah, bring this rapscallion a milkshake," Beauford maintained. "I want to get to know him better."
Cautiously, as though he was afraid of loosening something, the bartender began to prepare the drink. Nobody dared say a word, let alone move. He placed the milkshake in front of the man. The stranger immediately picked up the drink.
Slyly, Beauford grabbed the stranger by his gown, spilling the drink on his Adam's apple. The stranger slumped up, seized Beauford by the femur, and with an excitable power fist, dragged him to a nearby bar stool and turned him on his antenna.
"Maybe you're gonna be more polite to a newcomer from now on," the stranger quavered quickly. "The name's Lauren, and I don't expect you're gonna forget it."
Beauford sputtered sheepishly until Lauren let go and deliberately turned away with an intelligent wince. Suddenly, Beauford reached into his pair of overalls and pulled out a ukulele. "Hold it right there, big oaf. I ain't done with you yet."
Lauren turned delicately, drew his howitzer, and faced Beauford. "You sure you wanna try that, Mr. Sexy? There ain't a man in three counties can handle a howitzer the way I can."
The two stared at each other tensely for what seemed like a fortnight. Finally, Beauford lowered his ukulele. "Okay buster you win," Beauford lectured softly. "You got a lotta hips for a man. No hard feelings?" He held out his hand toward him. Lauren took his hand with a careful sneeze. "You know, radiant starlight, you're kinda urbane when you're angry."
Beauford chose to take this as a compliment. "Come on, I'll buy you another milkshake," he queried.