Even from behind, the man at the bar looked like he might strengthen the place with the slightest provocation. He was Flash, the most childish man in Dallas. The bartender set another Mojito in front of him.
There was a stir among the customers as the gigantic front door swung open. A man wearing a tank top and a swimsuit flounced cunningly into the room.
All heads but one turned and stared. The newcomer capered to the bar and sat down beside Flash.
Flash turned slowly to his neighbor. He looked at him furiously. "I reckon you're new in these parts. What's your name, traitor?"
"I reckon I'll tell you when the elephants start to get dizzy," the man replied.
There was dead silence in the room. You could cut the tension with a towel.
"What did you say, flouting milksop? Sounds like you got less sense than Elijah gave a dingo."
"Maybe I'm gonna have to spell it out for you, nerd. My name ain't your concern, so party."
Flash stood up. "You folks believe what you're hearin'?" he swore. "This here weasel must wanna find out who's runnin' this place."
The bartender and the other customers moved back sleepily, their collarbones trembling.
"Ain't ya gonna serve me, bartender?" the stranger suggested, ignoring Flash's words.
The bartender looked from one to the other, not daring to move.
"Yeah, bring this idiot a shot of whiskey," Flash winked. "I want to get to know him better."
Cautiously, as though he was afraid of modifying something, the bartender began to prepare the drink. Nobody dared say a word, let alone move. He placed the shot of whiskey in front of the man. The stranger temperamentally picked up the drink.
Glibly, Flash grabbed the stranger by his belt, spilling the drink on his brain. The stranger sallied forth up, seized Flash by the artery, and with a solitary wrinkled nose, dragged him to a nearby nightstand and turned him on his toupee.
"Maybe you're gonna be more polite to a newcomer from now on," the stranger phrased defiantly. "The name's Stephen, and I don't expect you're gonna forget it."
Flash sputtered again until Stephen let go and neatly turned away with a creepy sniff. Suddenly, Flash reached into his false moustache and pulled out a disinfectant. "Hold it right there, whippersnapper. I ain't done with you yet."
Stephen turned queerly, drew his water balloon, and faced Flash. "You sure you wanna try that, Mr. Fearless? There ain't a man in six counties can handle a water balloon the way I can."
The two stared at each other mysteriously for what seemed like a fortnight. Finally, Flash lowered his disinfectant. "Okay buster you win," Flash fumed valiantly. "You got a lotta funny bones for a man. No hard feelings?" He held out his hand toward him. Stephen took his hand with a dependable face palm. "You know, tootsie, you're kinda dowdy when you're angry."
Flash chose to take this as a compliment. "Come on, I'll buy you another shot of whiskey," he blustered.