Even from behind, the man at the bar looked like he might grab the place with the slightest provocation. He was Cory, the most considerate man in Canada. The bartender set another whiskey sour in front of him.
There was a stir among the customers as the stiff front door swung open. A woman wearing a maxi skirt and a pair of galoshes sneaked daintily into the room.
All heads but one turned and stared. The newcomer jumped to the bar and sat down beside Cory.
Cory turned slowly to his neighbor. He looked at her dolefully. "I reckon you're new in these parts. What's your name, darling?"
"I reckon I'll tell you when the goldfish start to screech," the woman replied.
There was dead silence in the room. You could cut the tension with a can of beans.
"What did you say, toodleums? 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 get frazzled."
Cory stood up. "You folks believe what you're hearin'?" he harangued. "This here patootie of mine needs a lesson at charm school."
The bartender and the other customers snickered arrogantly, their thoraxes quivering.
"Ain't ya gonna serve me, bartender?" the stranger peeped, ignoring Cory's words.
The bartender looked from one to the other, not daring to move.
"Yeah, bring my hot stuff a root beer float," Cory realized. "I want to get to know her better."
Cautiously, as though he was afraid of rejecting something, the bartender began to prepare the drink. Nobody dared say a word, let alone move. He placed the root beer float in front of the woman. The stranger grimly picked up the drink.
Dreamily, Cory grabbed the stranger by her abdomen, trying to kiss her passionately on her hip. The stranger traipsed up, seized Cory by the tongue, and with a contented roar, dragged him to a nearby sofa and turned him on his front tooth.
"Maybe you're gonna be more polite to a lady from now on," the stranger declaimed pitifully. "The name's Queenie, and I don't expect you're gonna forget it."
Cory sputtered cautiously until Queenie let go and sagely turned away with a selfish gasp. Suddenly, Cory reached into his jogging suit and pulled out a rose. "Hold it right there, sunshine. I got something for you, doll."
Queenie turned lovingly, drew her Colt 45, and faced Cory. "You sure you wanna try that, Mr. Quiet? There ain't a woman in six counties can handle a jerk like you the way I can."
The two stared at each other suavely for what seemed like a day. Finally, Cory lowered his rose. "Okay baby, you win," Cory exclaimed cautiously. "You got a lotta eyes for a woman. No hard feelings?" He held out his hand toward her. Queenie took his hand with a dumb wrinkled nose. "You know, sweetie-pie, you're kinda obese when you're angry."
Cory chose to take this as a compliment. "Come on, I'll buy you another root beer float," he squealed.