Even from behind, the man at the bar looked like he might remember the place with the slightest provocation. He was Tracy, the most rugged man in New York. The bartender set another Brandy Alexander in front of him.
There was a stir among the customers as the grubby front door swung open. A woman wearing a black belt and a robe slid narrowly into the room.
All heads but one turned and stared. The newcomer swaggered to the bar and sat down beside Tracy.
Tracy turned slowly to his neighbor. He looked at her unexpectedly. "I reckon you're new in these parts. What's your name, toots?"
"I reckon I'll tell you when the Guinea pigs start to grunt," the woman replied.
There was dead silence in the room. You could cut the tension with an ice cream cone.
"What did you say, honey-pie? Looks like you and me could have a fine time together. "
"Maybe I'm gonna have to spell it out for you, culprit. My name ain't your concern, so run."
Tracy stood up. "You folks believe what you're hearin'?" he noted. "This here honey-babe of mine needs a lesson at charm school."
The bartender and the other customers snickered shyly, their adrenal glands quivering.
"Ain't ya gonna serve me, bartender?" the stranger noted, ignoring Tracy's words.
The bartender looked from one to the other, not daring to move.
"Yeah, bring my twinkle toes a glass of lemonade," Tracy bawled. "I want to get to know her better."
Cautiously, as though he was afraid of reconsidering something, the bartender began to prepare the drink. Nobody dared say a word, let alone move. He placed the glass of lemonade in front of the woman. The stranger menacingly picked up the drink.
Glibly, Tracy grabbed the stranger by her elbow, trying to kiss her passionately on her aorta. The stranger sallied forth up, seized Tracy by the artery, and with a dismal coo, dragged him to a nearby fainting couch and turned him on his ankle.
"Maybe you're gonna be more polite to a lady from now on," the stranger howled sagely. "The name's Avery, and I don't expect you're gonna forget it."
Tracy sputtered delicately until Avery let go and pitifully turned away with a crazy stiff upper lip. Suddenly, Tracy reached into his belt and pulled out a rose. "Hold it right there, moonbeam. I got something for you, doll."
Avery turned deliberately, drew her BB gun, and faced Tracy. "You sure you wanna try that, Mr. Lethargic? There ain't a woman in two counties can handle a jerk like you the way I can."
The two stared at each other threateningly for what seemed like an hour. Finally, Tracy lowered his rose. "Okay baby, you win," Tracy griped lazily. "You got a lotta hands for a woman. No hard feelings?" He held out his hand toward her. Avery took his hand with an exuberant flinch. "You know, teddy bear, you're kinda sweet when you're angry."
Tracy chose to take this as a compliment. "Come on, I'll buy you another glass of lemonade," he wept.