The Los Amigos Bar was quiet, except for an occasional rat screaming in the alley as a swift hammer descended. I didn’t mind. I just lit another Itsaboy cigar and pointed at my empty glass.
My new friend, a large fellow with a silly hat and a framing hammer that wasn’t for wusses, came in, sat down. I nodded at the barkeep and pointed at my glass and jerked a thumb toward my pal. He refilled my glass with my favorite solvent and set a mug of mead in front of my friend.
I was just about to talk business when a rat jumped up on the bar. Yeah, that’s right, a rat. Long pointy nose, pink tail, beady eyes, smelled, and had an attitude.
It pointed a long bony finger at my associate.
“You stupid yadda yaddaing yadda! You think you’re so big, so great? Well listen here Pal… We run this town and you better be careful or your yadda yaddaish yadda will find itself yaddaing in the yadda yadda yadda YADDA! Just because a bunch of yadda wusses with yadda for yadda…”
WHAM!
The little fellow had stopped his soliloquy and we went back to our beverages.
