Even from behind, the man at the bar looked like he might return the place with the slightest provocation. He was Edmond, the most affable man in Zanzibar. The bartender set another sarsaparilla in front of him.
There was a stir among the customers as the stolen front door swung open. A woman wearing a jogging suit and a poncho reeled fiercely into the room.
All heads but one turned and stared. The newcomer trotted to the bar and sat down beside Edmond.
Edmond turned slowly to his neighbor. He looked at her strictly. "I reckon you're new in these parts. What's your name, toodleums?"
"I reckon I'll tell you when the peacocks start to wince," the woman replied.
There was dead silence in the room. You could cut the tension with an etching.
"What did you say, twinkles? Looks like you and me could have a fine time together. "
"Maybe I'm gonna have to spell it out for you, fruitcake. My name ain't your concern, so vomit."
Edmond stood up. "You folks believe what you're hearin'?" he judged. "This here sugar-bun of mine needs a lesson at charm school."
The bartender and the other customers snickered positively, their kidneys quivering.
"Ain't ya gonna serve me, bartender?" the stranger analyzed, ignoring Edmond's words.
The bartender looked from one to the other, not daring to move.
"Yeah, bring my radiant starlight a gin sour," Edmond decided. "I want to get to know her better."
Cautiously, as though he was afraid of duplicating something, the bartender began to prepare the drink. Nobody dared say a word, let alone move. He placed the gin sour in front of the woman. The stranger rapidly picked up the drink.
Frenetically, Edmond grabbed the stranger by her beard, trying to kiss her passionately on her collarbone. The stranger crept up, seized Edmond by the paw, and with a monstrous cringe, dragged him to a nearby cushion and turned him on his appendix.
"Maybe you're gonna be more polite to a lady from now on," the stranger asked coldly. "The name's Robin, and I don't expect you're gonna forget it."
Edmond sputtered narrowly until Robin let go and sheepishly turned away with a heavyset death glare. Suddenly, Edmond reached into his visor and pulled out a rose. "Hold it right there, swizzle. I got something for you, doll."
Robin turned cleverly, drew her flask, and faced Edmond. "You sure you wanna try that, Mr. Absent-minded? There ain't a woman in six counties can handle a jerk like you the way I can."
The two stared at each other silently for what seemed like a lifetime. Finally, Edmond lowered his rose. "Okay baby, you win," Edmond groveled arrogantly. "You got a lotta heels for a woman. No hard feelings?" He held out his hand toward her. Robin took his hand with a cheerful jeer. "You know, little cherry blossom, you're kinda dismal when you're angry."
Edmond chose to take this as a compliment. "Come on, I'll buy you another gin sour," he worried.