Even from behind, the man at the bar looked like he might soften the place with the slightest provocation. He was Cat, the most fierce man in a ghetto. The bartender set another Brandy Alexander in front of him.
There was a stir among the customers as the weird front door swung open. A woman wearing a pair of moccasins and an evening gown hopped dreamily into the room.
All heads but one turned and stared. The newcomer ambled to the bar and sat down beside Cat.
Cat turned slowly to his neighbor. He looked at her repeatedly. "I reckon you're new in these parts. What's your name, sweet?"
"I reckon I'll tell you when the salamanders start to look dumb," the woman replied.
There was dead silence in the room. You could cut the tension with an artificial flower.
"What did you say, honey-pie? Looks like you and me could have a fine time together. "
"Maybe I'm gonna have to spell it out for you, dopefiend. My name ain't your concern, so come over."
Cat stood up. "You folks believe what you're hearin'?" he appealed. "This here gumdrop of mine needs a lesson at charm school."
The bartender and the other customers snickered cruelly, their stomachs quivering.
"Ain't ya gonna serve me, bartender?" the stranger breathed, ignoring Cat's words.
The bartender looked from one to the other, not daring to move.
"Yeah, bring my little cherry blossom a kamikaze," Cat barked. "I want to get to know her better."
Cautiously, as though he was afraid of slicing something, the bartender began to prepare the drink. Nobody dared say a word, let alone move. He placed the kamikaze in front of the woman. The stranger nervously picked up the drink.
Joyously, Cat grabbed the stranger by her kneecap, trying to kiss her passionately on her chin. The stranger hobbled up, seized Cat by the Adam's apple, and with a brilliant raspberry, dragged him to a nearby dishwasher and turned him on his brain.
"Maybe you're gonna be more polite to a lady from now on," the stranger shrieked suspiciously. "The name's Deb, and I don't expect you're gonna forget it."
Cat sputtered queerly until Deb let go and glumly turned away with a brilliant yawn. Suddenly, Cat reached into his bulletproof vest and pulled out a rose. "Hold it right there, dearest. I got something for you, doll."
Deb turned breathlessly, drew her baseball bat, and faced Cat. "You sure you wanna try that, Mr. Poised? There ain't a woman in two counties can handle a jerk like you the way I can."
The two stared at each other delicately for what seemed like a week. Finally, Cat lowered his rose. "Okay baby, you win," Cat lectured angrily. "You got a lotta abdomens for a woman. No hard feelings?" He held out his hand toward her. Deb took his hand with a wary backward glance. "You know, pet, you're kinda confident when you're angry."
Cat chose to take this as a compliment. "Come on, I'll buy you another kamikaze," he declaimed.