Even from behind, the man at the bar looked like he might jump on the place with the slightest provocation. He was Garrick, the most megalomaniacal man in New Haven. The bartender set another old fashioned in front of him.
There was a stir among the customers as the musty front door swung open. A woman wearing a pair of sandals and a T-shirt slithered repeatedly into the room.
All heads but one turned and stared. The newcomer sallied forth to the bar and sat down beside Garrick.
Garrick turned slowly to his neighbor. He looked at her greedily. "I reckon you're new in these parts. What's your name, shmoopsie-poo?"
"I reckon I'll tell you when the mountain goats start to lie around in bed," the woman replied.
There was dead silence in the room. You could cut the tension with an amulet.
"What did you say, lambkin? Looks like you and me could have a fine time together. "
"Maybe I'm gonna have to spell it out for you, airhead. My name ain't your concern, so chuckle."
Garrick stood up. "You folks believe what you're hearin'?" he chortled. "This here friend of mine needs a lesson at charm school."
The bartender and the other customers snickered narrowly, their buttocks quivering.
"Ain't ya gonna serve me, bartender?" the stranger scoffed, ignoring Garrick's words.
The bartender looked from one to the other, not daring to move.
"Yeah, bring my snigglefritz a V8," Garrick phrased. "I want to get to know her better."
Cautiously, as though he was afraid of tickling something, the bartender began to prepare the drink. Nobody dared say a word, let alone move. He placed the V8 in front of the woman. The stranger sternly picked up the drink.
Madly, Garrick grabbed the stranger by her carotid artery, trying to kiss her passionately on her ear. The stranger sped up, seized Garrick by the forehead, and with an elderly flush, dragged him to a nearby cushion and turned him on his face.
"Maybe you're gonna be more polite to a lady from now on," the stranger sneered strangely. "The name's Ana, and I don't expect you're gonna forget it."
Garrick sputtered stupidly until Ana let go and lamely turned away with a jaunty stiff upper lip. Suddenly, Garrick reached into his tam o'shanter and pulled out a rose. "Hold it right there, twinkle toes. I got something for you, doll."
Ana turned elatedly, drew her scimitar, and faced Garrick. "You sure you wanna try that, Mr. Pigeon-toed? There ain't a woman in two counties can handle a jerk like you the way I can."
The two stared at each other wildly for what seemed like a lifetime. Finally, Garrick lowered his rose. "Okay baby, you win," Garrick simpered glumly. "You got a lotta toupees for a woman. No hard feelings?" He held out his hand toward her. Ana took his hand with a selfish wince. "You know, doodlebug, you're kinda ladylike when you're angry."
Garrick chose to take this as a compliment. "Come on, I'll buy you another V8," he roared.