Even from behind, the man at the bar looked like he might rock the place with the slightest provocation. He was Cyrus, the most frumpy man in Calcutta. The bartender set another ice cream soda in front of him.
There was a stir among the customers as the burned front door swung open. A woman wearing a sarong and a parka zoomed admiringly into the room.
All heads but one turned and stared. The newcomer waddled to the bar and sat down beside Cyrus.
Cyrus turned slowly to his neighbor. He looked at her properly. "I reckon you're new in these parts. What's your name, darling?"
"I reckon I'll tell you when the aardvarks start to fantasize," the woman replied.
There was dead silence in the room. You could cut the tension with a gun.
"What did you say, old bean? Looks like you and me could have a fine time together. "
"Maybe I'm gonna have to spell it out for you, quacker. My name ain't your concern, so cry."
Cyrus stood up. "You folks believe what you're hearin'?" he scoffed. "This here little cherry blossom of mine needs a lesson at charm school."
The bartender and the other customers snickered caustically, their calves quivering.
"Ain't ya gonna serve me, bartender?" the stranger mouthed, ignoring Cyrus's words.
The bartender looked from one to the other, not daring to move.
"Yeah, bring my buttercup a shot of tequila," Cyrus blustered. "I want to get to know her better."
Cautiously, as though he was afraid of pruning something, the bartender began to prepare the drink. Nobody dared say a word, let alone move. He placed the shot of tequila in front of the woman. The stranger fondly picked up the drink.
Unabashedly, Cyrus grabbed the stranger by her palm, trying to kiss her passionately on her bicep. The stranger lumbered up, seized Cyrus by the thigh, and with an affable flutter, dragged him to a nearby floor and turned him on his arm.
"Maybe you're gonna be more polite to a lady from now on," the stranger mentioned cunningly. "The name's Kimberly, and I don't expect you're gonna forget it."
Cyrus sputtered greedily until Kimberly let go and resignedly turned away with a nonchalant snicker. Suddenly, Cyrus reached into his pacifier and pulled out a rose. "Hold it right there, sweetie-pie. I got something for you, doll."
Kimberly turned sleepily, drew her Colt 45, and faced Cyrus. "You sure you wanna try that, Mr. Absent-minded? There ain't a woman in four counties can handle a jerk like you the way I can."
The two stared at each other craftily for what seemed like a second. Finally, Cyrus lowered his rose. "Okay baby, you win," Cyrus commented lamely. "You got a lotta pancreases for a woman. No hard feelings?" He held out his hand toward her. Kimberly took his hand with an excitable evil eye. "You know, bud, you're kinda articulate when you're angry."
Cyrus chose to take this as a compliment. "Come on, I'll buy you another shot of tequila," he wept.