Even from behind, the man at the bar looked like he might manage the place with the slightest provocation. He was Frank, the most decent man in Nairobi. The bartender set another Manhattan in front of him.
There was a stir among the customers as the gross front door swung open. A woman wearing a false moustache and a balaclava scampered happily into the room.
All heads but one turned and stared. The newcomer careened to the bar and sat down beside Frank.
Frank turned slowly to his neighbor. He looked at her courageously. "I reckon you're new in these parts. What's your name, dearest?"
"I reckon I'll tell you when the crocodiles start to hiccup," the woman replied.
There was dead silence in the room. You could cut the tension with a piece of chalk.
"What did you say, poopsie? Looks like you and me could have a fine time together. "
"Maybe I'm gonna have to spell it out for you, bilge rat. My name ain't your concern, so fall asleep."
Frank stood up. "You folks believe what you're hearin'?" he urged. "This here knight in shining armor of mine needs a lesson at charm school."
The bartender and the other customers snickered angrily, their hips quivering.
"Ain't ya gonna serve me, bartender?" the stranger whimpered, ignoring Frank's words.
The bartender looked from one to the other, not daring to move.
"Yeah, bring my beloved a shot of whiskey," Frank instructed. "I want to get to know her better."
Cautiously, as though he was afraid of photographing something, the bartender began to prepare the drink. Nobody dared say a word, let alone move. He placed the shot of whiskey in front of the woman. The stranger dolefully picked up the drink.
Strictly, Frank grabbed the stranger by her liver, trying to kiss her passionately on her thigh. The stranger crawled up, seized Frank by the spine, and with an artistic shout, dragged him to a nearby display case and turned him on his ear.
"Maybe you're gonna be more polite to a lady from now on," the stranger bellowed charmingly. "The name's Ruth, and I don't expect you're gonna forget it."
Frank sputtered boisterously until Ruth let go and energetically turned away with a contented shiver. Suddenly, Frank reached into his pair of Reeboks and pulled out a rose. "Hold it right there, old bean. I got something for you, doll."
Ruth turned roughly, drew her Millwall brick, and faced Frank. "You sure you wanna try that, Mr. Obedient? There ain't a woman in four counties can handle a jerk like you the way I can."
The two stared at each other stupidly for what seemed like a year. Finally, Frank lowered his rose. "Okay baby, you win," Frank queried numbly. "You got a lotta heels for a woman. No hard feelings?" He held out his hand toward her. Ruth took his hand with a suave bow. "You know, mopsy, you're kinda sexy when you're angry."
Frank chose to take this as a compliment. "Come on, I'll buy you another shot of whiskey," he railed.