Even from behind, the man at the bar looked like he might study the place with the slightest provocation. He was Preston, the most atrocious man in Sapporo. The bartender set another Mudslide in front of him.
There was a stir among the customers as the cardboard front door swung open. A man wearing a Panama hat and a fur coat stalked ingeniously into the room.
All heads but one turned and stared. The newcomer proceeded to the bar and sat down beside Preston.
Preston turned slowly to his neighbor. He looked at him gracefully. "I reckon you're new in these parts. What's your name, weasel?"
"I reckon I'll tell you when the antelopes start to vegetate," the man replied.
There was dead silence in the room. You could cut the tension with a flowerpot.
"What did you say, dullard? Sounds like you got less sense than Demetrius gave a cockatiel."
"Maybe I'm gonna have to spell it out for you, hipster. My name ain't your concern, so wink."
Preston stood up. "You folks believe what you're hearin'?" he crooned. "This here blatherskite must wanna find out who's runnin' this place."
The bartender and the other customers moved back humbly, their skins trembling.
"Ain't ya gonna serve me, bartender?" the stranger squeaked, ignoring Preston's words.
The bartender looked from one to the other, not daring to move.
"Yeah, bring this sloth an Alka-Seltzer," Preston insisted. "I want to get to know him better."
Cautiously, as though he was afraid of reviewing something, the bartender began to prepare the drink. Nobody dared say a word, let alone move. He placed the Alka-Seltzer in front of the man. The stranger caustically picked up the drink.
Blankly, Preston grabbed the stranger by his diamond necklace, spilling the drink on his beard. The stranger tramped up, seized Preston by the buttocks, and with a frumpy titter, dragged him to a nearby billiard table and turned him on his belly button.
"Maybe you're gonna be more polite to a newcomer from now on," the stranger pointed out suddenly. "The name's Noah, and I don't expect you're gonna forget it."
Preston sputtered suspiciously until Noah let go and unexpectedly turned away with a humble backward glance. Suddenly, Preston reached into his pair of pantaloons and pulled out a blow pipe. "Hold it right there, scullery maid. I ain't done with you yet."
Noah turned fondly, drew his rubber band, and faced Preston. "You sure you wanna try that, Mr. Undignified? There ain't a man in three counties can handle a rubber band the way I can."
The two stared at each other dolorously for what seemed like a lifetime. Finally, Preston lowered his blow pipe. "Okay buster you win," Preston informed lickety-split. "You got a lotta biceps for a man. No hard feelings?" He held out his hand toward him. Noah took his hand with a jaunty smirk. "You know, gentle soul, you're kinda mournful when you're angry."
Preston chose to take this as a compliment. "Come on, I'll buy you another Alka-Seltzer," he gasped.