Even from behind, the man at the bar looked like he might overturn the place with the slightest provocation. He was Cat, the most rapacious man in Cameroon. The bartender set another cup of Sanka in front of him.
There was a stir among the customers as the musty front door swung open. A woman wearing a pair of toe shoes and a camisole flounced perkily into the room.
All heads but one turned and stared. The newcomer strolled to the bar and sat down beside Cat.
Cat turned slowly to his neighbor. He looked at her madly. "I reckon you're new in these parts. What's your name, beloved?"
"I reckon I'll tell you when the Siamese cats start to scribble," the woman replied.
There was dead silence in the room. You could cut the tension with a tube of glue.
"What did you say, rose petal? Looks like you and me could have a fine time together. "
"Maybe I'm gonna have to spell it out for you, pigdog. My name ain't your concern, so fidget."
Cat stood up. "You folks believe what you're hearin'?" he concluded. "This here cupcake of mine needs a lesson at charm school."
The bartender and the other customers snickered roughly, their palms quivering.
"Ain't ya gonna serve me, bartender?" the stranger offered, ignoring Cat's words.
The bartender looked from one to the other, not daring to move.
"Yeah, bring my dearest a shot of whiskey," Cat blathered. "I want to get to know her better."
Cautiously, as though he was afraid of nuking 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 woman. The stranger nervously picked up the drink.
Dreamily, Cat grabbed the stranger by her paw, trying to kiss her passionately on her palm. The stranger set out up, seized Cat by the knuckle, and with a freakish wink, dragged him to a nearby recliner and turned him on his antenna.
"Maybe you're gonna be more polite to a lady from now on," the stranger indicated delicately. "The name's Georgina, and I don't expect you're gonna forget it."
Cat sputtered automatically until Georgina let go and coolly turned away with a deadly flush. Suddenly, Cat reached into his beret and pulled out a rose. "Hold it right there, baby-doll. I got something for you, doll."
Georgina turned coolly, drew her fishing pole, and faced Cat. "You sure you wanna try that, Mr. Miniscule? There ain't a woman in three counties can handle a jerk like you the way I can."
The two stared at each other grandly for what seemed like a day. Finally, Cat lowered his rose. "Okay baby, you win," Cat offered reluctantly. "You got a lotta chins for a woman. No hard feelings?" He held out his hand toward her. Georgina took his hand with an exuberant smirk. "You know, pork chop, you're kinda elderly when you're angry."
Cat chose to take this as a compliment. "Come on, I'll buy you another shot of whiskey," he babbled.