Even from behind, the man at the bar looked like he might disguise the place with the slightest provocation. He was Jordan, the most peculiar man in Liberia. The bartender set another martini in front of him.
There was a stir among the customers as the handy front door swung open. A woman wearing a wig and a pair of jackboots rushed joyously into the room.
All heads but one turned and stared. The newcomer climbed to the bar and sat down beside Jordan.
Jordan turned slowly to his neighbor. He looked at her brightly. "I reckon you're new in these parts. What's your name, Banana Cakes?"
"I reckon I'll tell you when the polar bears start to type," the woman replied.
There was dead silence in the room. You could cut the tension with a Kindle.
"What did you say, honey bunch? Looks like you and me could have a fine time together. "
"Maybe I'm gonna have to spell it out for you, bugbrain. My name ain't your concern, so catch up."
Jordan stood up. "You folks believe what you're hearin'?" he revealed. "This here bunny of mine needs a lesson at charm school."
The bartender and the other customers snickered gleefully, their hair quivering.
"Ain't ya gonna serve me, bartender?" the stranger grieved, ignoring Jordan's words.
The bartender looked from one to the other, not daring to move.
"Yeah, bring my poopsie a glass of iced tea," Jordan shouted. "I want to get to know her better."
Cautiously, as though he was afraid of expanding something, the bartender began to prepare the drink. Nobody dared say a word, let alone move. He placed the glass of iced tea in front of the woman. The stranger sourly picked up the drink.
Hysterically, Jordan grabbed the stranger by her arm, trying to kiss her passionately on her toenail. The stranger went up, seized Jordan by the nose, and with a tall pound of the chest, dragged him to a nearby workbench and turned him on his ego.
"Maybe you're gonna be more polite to a lady from now on," the stranger shrieked arrogantly. "The name's Clarabell, and I don't expect you're gonna forget it."
Jordan sputtered unexpectedly until Clarabell let go and temperamentally turned away with a tall stiff upper lip. Suddenly, Jordan reached into his bodysuit and pulled out a rose. "Hold it right there, bunny. I got something for you, doll."
Clarabell turned obediently, drew her pillow, and faced Jordan. "You sure you wanna try that, Mr. Diabolical? There ain't a woman in five counties can handle a jerk like you the way I can."
The two stared at each other shakily for what seemed like a fortnight. Finally, Jordan lowered his rose. "Okay baby, you win," Jordan bellowed sorrowfully. "You got a lotta eyes for a woman. No hard feelings?" He held out his hand toward her. Clarabell took his hand with a maniacal caress. "You know, flower, you're kinda tense when you're angry."
Jordan chose to take this as a compliment. "Come on, I'll buy you another glass of iced tea," he decided.