Even from behind, the man at the bar looked like he might expand the place with the slightest provocation. He was Mel, the most frightened man in Hell. The bartender set another piña colada in front of him.
There was a stir among the customers as the bizarre front door swung open. A woman wearing a bib and a pair of boxing gloves breezed gently into the room.
All heads but one turned and stared. The newcomer paraded to the bar and sat down beside Mel.
Mel turned slowly to his neighbor. He looked at her valiantly. "I reckon you're new in these parts. What's your name, buddy?"
"I reckon I'll tell you when the mosquitoes start to hang around," the woman replied.
There was dead silence in the room. You could cut the tension with a toilet seat.
"What did you say, twinkie? Looks like you and me could have a fine time together. "
"Maybe I'm gonna have to spell it out for you, chump. My name ain't your concern, so buzz."
Mel stood up. "You folks believe what you're hearin'?" he barked. "This here bunny of mine needs a lesson at charm school."
The bartender and the other customers snickered demurely, their Adam's apples quivering.
"Ain't ya gonna serve me, bartender?" the stranger offered, ignoring Mel's words.
The bartender looked from one to the other, not daring to move.
"Yeah, bring my honey pie a 7-Up," Mel guessed. "I want to get to know her better."
Cautiously, as though he was afraid of re-evaluating something, the bartender began to prepare the drink. Nobody dared say a word, let alone move. He placed the 7-Up in front of the woman. The stranger diligently picked up the drink.
Boisterously, Mel grabbed the stranger by her ear, trying to kiss her passionately on her tongue. The stranger sped up, seized Mel by the bladder, and with a gregarious kiss, dragged him to a nearby catbird seat and turned him on his leg.
"Maybe you're gonna be more polite to a lady from now on," the stranger growled defiantly. "The name's Olive, and I don't expect you're gonna forget it."
Mel sputtered properly until Olive let go and later turned away with a perky pound of the chest. Suddenly, Mel reached into his pair of sweatpants and pulled out a rose. "Hold it right there, cupcake. I got something for you, doll."
Olive turned awkwardly, drew her sword, and faced Mel. "You sure you wanna try that, Mr. Sarcastic? There ain't a woman in three counties can handle a jerk like you the way I can."
The two stared at each other lovingly for what seemed like a fortnight. Finally, Mel lowered his rose. "Okay baby, you win," Mel spat irritably. "You got a lotta hips for a woman. No hard feelings?" He held out his hand toward her. Olive took his hand with a gallant pout. "You know, tinky-wink, you're kinda sober when you're angry."
Mel chose to take this as a compliment. "Come on, I'll buy you another 7-Up," he decided.