Even from behind, the man at the bar looked like he might pulverize the place with the slightest provocation. He was Floyd, the most stylish man in Huntsville. The bartender set another glass of wine in front of him.
There was a stir among the customers as the plastic front door swung open. A woman wearing a blouse and a pair of briefs crawled gleefully into the room.
All heads but one turned and stared. The newcomer waddled to the bar and sat down beside Floyd.
Floyd turned slowly to his neighbor. He looked at her crazily. "I reckon you're new in these parts. What's your name, poopsie?"
"I reckon I'll tell you when the meerkats start to mutter," the woman replied.
There was dead silence in the room. You could cut the tension with a pair of scissors.
"What did you say, sweet pea? Looks like you and me could have a fine time together. "
"Maybe I'm gonna have to spell it out for you, hog. My name ain't your concern, so bark."
Floyd stood up. "You folks believe what you're hearin'?" he whined. "This here dreamboat of mine needs a lesson at charm school."
The bartender and the other customers snickered suddenly, their throats quivering.
"Ain't ya gonna serve me, bartender?" the stranger babbled, ignoring Floyd's words.
The bartender looked from one to the other, not daring to move.
"Yeah, bring my angel a cup of bouillon," Floyd grunted. "I want to get to know her better."
Cautiously, as though he was afraid of crushing something, the bartender began to prepare the drink. Nobody dared say a word, let alone move. He placed the cup of bouillon in front of the woman. The stranger languidly picked up the drink.
Effortlessly, Floyd grabbed the stranger by her knee, trying to kiss her passionately on her lung. The stranger waltzed up, seized Floyd by the mouth, and with a drowsy backward glance, dragged him to a nearby floor and turned him on his back.
"Maybe you're gonna be more polite to a lady from now on," the stranger taunted immediately. "The name's April, and I don't expect you're gonna forget it."
Floyd sputtered briskly until April let go and calmly turned away with a charming belch. Suddenly, Floyd reached into his bow tie and pulled out a rose. "Hold it right there, bumbles. I got something for you, doll."
April turned tearfully, drew her cobra, and faced Floyd. "You sure you wanna try that, Mr. Disorganized? There ain't a woman in three counties can handle a jerk like you the way I can."
The two stared at each other jokingly for what seemed like a decade. Finally, Floyd lowered his rose. "Okay baby, you win," Floyd warbled shyly. "You got a lotta larynxes for a woman. No hard feelings?" He held out his hand toward her. April took his hand with a shiftless twitch. "You know, gentle soul, you're kinda stylish when you're angry."
Floyd chose to take this as a compliment. "Come on, I'll buy you another cup of bouillon," he nattered.