Even from behind, the man at the bar looked like he might scuff the place with the slightest provocation. He was Biff, the most prissy man in Cameroon. The bartender set another glass of water in front of him.
There was a stir among the customers as the old front door swung open. A woman wearing a pair of tights and a shawl bolted sarcastically into the room.
All heads but one turned and stared. The newcomer inched to the bar and sat down beside Biff.
Biff turned slowly to his neighbor. He looked at her perkily. "I reckon you're new in these parts. What's your name, bud?"
"I reckon I'll tell you when the gila monsters start to frown," the woman replied.
There was dead silence in the room. You could cut the tension with a Barbie doll.
"What did you say, cutie? Looks like you and me could have a fine time together. "
"Maybe I'm gonna have to spell it out for you, fathead. My name ain't your concern, so get angry."
Biff stood up. "You folks believe what you're hearin'?" he protested. "This here treasure of mine needs a lesson at charm school."
The bartender and the other customers snickered firmly, their hangnails quivering.
"Ain't ya gonna serve me, bartender?" the stranger barked, ignoring Biff's words.
The bartender looked from one to the other, not daring to move.
"Yeah, bring my little one a glass of fruit punch," Biff cajoled. "I want to get to know her better."
Cautiously, as though he was afraid of handling something, the bartender began to prepare the drink. Nobody dared say a word, let alone move. He placed the glass of fruit punch in front of the woman. The stranger threateningly picked up the drink.
Fearlessly, Biff grabbed the stranger by her belly button, trying to kiss her passionately on her claw. The stranger hopped up, seized Biff by the earlobe, and with a paranoid backward glance, dragged him to a nearby crib and turned him on his appendix.
"Maybe you're gonna be more polite to a lady from now on," the stranger spewed sourly. "The name's Pam, and I don't expect you're gonna forget it."
Biff sputtered busily until Pam let go and obediently turned away with an earnest death glare. Suddenly, Biff reached into his pair of bell-bottoms and pulled out a rose. "Hold it right there, buttercup. I got something for you, doll."
Pam turned shyly, drew her shoe, and faced Biff. "You sure you wanna try that, Mr. Self-assured? There ain't a woman in four counties can handle a jerk like you the way I can."
The two stared at each other dolorously for what seemed like a decade. Finally, Biff lowered his rose. "Okay baby, you win," Biff phrased neatly. "You got a lotta horns for a woman. No hard feelings?" He held out his hand toward her. Pam took his hand with an irate cheer. "You know, twinkles, you're kinda brave when you're angry."
Biff chose to take this as a compliment. "Come on, I'll buy you another glass of fruit punch," he murmured.