And at the door stands a raggy man, begrimed, bewhiskered, and benighted, the very picture of poverty.

"Wouldst help a poor, yet educated, fellow who just bought a house and is now amongst the downtrodden of the Earth?" he asks, tentatively holding out a ten-gallon mug. "I've just moved from the Effete East to the Wild West, and this is the smallest drinking vessel that fit. Just fill it up with that Johnny Walker Blue for a starter, like a good human being."

There is some whispering, as the Raggy Man is dressed in angora chaps, thigh-high riding boots, and a swept-hilted rapier. And, except for his glasses, nothing else.

He suddenly realizes that his costume leaves something to be desired and in embarassment rushes out the door. Within a micromoment he is back, dressed as before, but now wearing a black 10X Stetson with a PRCA crease and roll and sporting a rattlesnake hatband.

"Gentlemen ALWAYS wear the correct headgear," he says, taking a sip from his mighty mug.