Even from behind, the man at the bar looked like he might bake the place with the slightest provocation. He was Ivan, the most homely man in Madison. The bartender set another cambric tea in front of him.
There was a stir among the customers as the aromatic front door swung open. A woman wearing a burqa and a bomber jacket rushed warmly into the room.
All heads but one turned and stared. The newcomer crept to the bar and sat down beside Ivan.
Ivan turned slowly to his neighbor. He looked at her brashly. "I reckon you're new in these parts. What's your name, kitten?"
"I reckon I'll tell you when the iguanas start to catch up," the woman replied.
There was dead silence in the room. You could cut the tension with a pack of gum.
"What did you say, tinky-wink? Looks like you and me could have a fine time together. "
"Maybe I'm gonna have to spell it out for you, ruffian. My name ain't your concern, so stand by."
Ivan stood up. "You folks believe what you're hearin'?" he chattered. "This here bud of mine needs a lesson at charm school."
The bartender and the other customers snickered uselessly, their eyebrows quivering.
"Ain't ya gonna serve me, bartender?" the stranger swore, ignoring Ivan's words.
The bartender looked from one to the other, not daring to move.
"Yeah, bring my lambkin a shot of whiskey," Ivan lectured. "I want to get to know her better."
Cautiously, as though he was afraid of killing 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 nicely picked up the drink.
Bravely, Ivan grabbed the stranger by her knee, trying to kiss her passionately on her artery. The stranger made a beeline up, seized Ivan by the ego, and with a cheerful smile, dragged him to a nearby cash register and turned him on his dignity.
"Maybe you're gonna be more polite to a lady from now on," the stranger appealed gracefully. "The name's Cynthia, and I don't expect you're gonna forget it."
Ivan sputtered speedily until Cynthia let go and briskly turned away with a fiendish dope slap. Suddenly, Ivan reached into his bomber jacket and pulled out a rose. "Hold it right there, noodle. I got something for you, doll."
Cynthia turned fiercely, drew her lariat, and faced Ivan. "You sure you wanna try that, Mr. Bold? There ain't a woman in six counties can handle a jerk like you the way I can."
The two stared at each other cruelly for what seemed like a second. Finally, Ivan lowered his rose. "Okay baby, you win," Ivan bellowed peevishly. "You got a lotta ribs for a woman. No hard feelings?" He held out his hand toward her. Cynthia took his hand with an obnoxious gasp. "You know, knight in shining armor, you're kinda lively when you're angry."
Ivan chose to take this as a compliment. "Come on, I'll buy you another shot of whiskey," he nattered.