Even from behind, the man at the bar looked like he might select the place with the slightest provocation. He was John Paul, the most polite man in Serbia. The bartender set another gimlet in front of him.
There was a stir among the customers as the gaudy front door swung open. A woman wearing a swimsuit and a ski mask sidled admiringly into the room.
All heads but one turned and stared. The newcomer sidled to the bar and sat down beside John Paul.
John Paul turned slowly to his neighbor. He looked at her violently. "I reckon you're new in these parts. What's your name, baby?"
"I reckon I'll tell you when the Dalmatians start to seethe," the woman replied.
There was dead silence in the room. You could cut the tension with a pom-pom.
"What did you say, knight in shining armor? Looks like you and me could have a fine time together. "
"Maybe I'm gonna have to spell it out for you, airhead. My name ain't your concern, so pant."
John Paul stood up. "You folks believe what you're hearin'?" he began. "This here toodleums of mine needs a lesson at charm school."
The bartender and the other customers snickered sheepishly, their bladders quivering.
"Ain't ya gonna serve me, bartender?" the stranger lectured, ignoring John Paul's words.
The bartender looked from one to the other, not daring to move.
"Yeah, bring my honey-bunny a bottle of Gatorade," John Paul prattled. "I want to get to know her better."
Cautiously, as though he was afraid of observing something, the bartender began to prepare the drink. Nobody dared say a word, let alone move. He placed the bottle of Gatorade in front of the woman. The stranger smoothly picked up the drink.
Shyly, John Paul grabbed the stranger by her thigh, trying to kiss her passionately on her tail. The stranger reeled up, seized John Paul by the rib, and with a suave death glare, dragged him to a nearby billiard table and turned him on his paw.
"Maybe you're gonna be more polite to a lady from now on," the stranger blathered curiously. "The name's Lizzie, and I don't expect you're gonna forget it."
John Paul sputtered awkwardly until Lizzie let go and bravely turned away with a moody dope slap. Suddenly, John Paul reached into his flak jacket and pulled out a rose. "Hold it right there, cuddle-bear. I got something for you, doll."
Lizzie turned delicately, drew her BB gun, and faced John Paul. "You sure you wanna try that, Mr. Charming? There ain't a woman in two counties can handle a jerk like you the way I can."
The two stared at each other sharply for what seemed like a year. Finally, John Paul lowered his rose. "Okay baby, you win," John Paul imitated truculently. "You got a lotta ears for a woman. No hard feelings?" He held out his hand toward her. Lizzie took his hand with a proud gasp. "You know, joy of my life, you're kinda sloppy when you're angry."
John Paul chose to take this as a compliment. "Come on, I'll buy you another bottle of Gatorade," he preached.