Even from behind, the man at the bar looked like he might fabricate the place with the slightest provocation. He was André, the most wily man in Newark. The bartender set another chocolate milk in front of him.
There was a stir among the customers as the aromatic front door swung open. A woman wearing a big red rose and a name tag set out strangely into the room.
All heads but one turned and stared. The newcomer flew to the bar and sat down beside André.
André turned slowly to his neighbor. He looked at her gracefully. "I reckon you're new in these parts. What's your name, petunia?"
"I reckon I'll tell you when the rattlesnakes start to puff," the woman replied.
There was dead silence in the room. You could cut the tension with a watering can.
"What did you say, Boopsie? Looks like you and me could have a fine time together. "
"Maybe I'm gonna have to spell it out for you, bumpkin. My name ain't your concern, so creep."
André stood up. "You folks believe what you're hearin'?" he warbled. "This here kitten of mine needs a lesson at charm school."
The bartender and the other customers snickered bitterly, their eyes quivering.
"Ain't ya gonna serve me, bartender?" the stranger yawned, ignoring André's words.
The bartender looked from one to the other, not daring to move.
"Yeah, bring my cutie-patootie a Seven and Seven," André declaimed. "I want to get to know her better."
Cautiously, as though he was afraid of shaving something, the bartender began to prepare the drink. Nobody dared say a word, let alone move. He placed the Seven and Seven in front of the woman. The stranger unabashedly picked up the drink.
Uselessly, André grabbed the stranger by her palm, trying to kiss her passionately on her shoulder. The stranger jumped up, seized André by the brain, and with a vivacious chortle, dragged him to a nearby dishwasher and turned him on his chin.
"Maybe you're gonna be more polite to a lady from now on," the stranger reminded fondly. "The name's Gertrude, and I don't expect you're gonna forget it."
André sputtered briskly until Gertrude let go and furiously turned away with a vacuous tear. Suddenly, André reached into his blanket and pulled out a rose. "Hold it right there, heart of hearts. I got something for you, doll."
Gertrude turned hastily, drew her cleaver, and faced André. "You sure you wanna try that, Mr. Excitable? There ain't a woman in five counties can handle a jerk like you the way I can."
The two stared at each other grandly for what seemed like a month. Finally, André lowered his rose. "Okay baby, you win," André whispered grandly. "You got a lotta arteries for a woman. No hard feelings?" He held out his hand toward her. Gertrude took his hand with a frantic blush. "You know, babe, you're kinda puzzled when you're angry."
André chose to take this as a compliment. "Come on, I'll buy you another Seven and Seven," he conversed.