Even from behind, the man at the bar looked like he might hang the place with the slightest provocation. He was Phil, the most carefree man in New York. The bartender set another hot buttered rum in front of him.
There was a stir among the customers as the chic front door swung open. A woman wearing a fez and a bulletproof vest bounded stealthily into the room.
All heads but one turned and stared. The newcomer galumphed to the bar and sat down beside Phil.
Phil turned slowly to his neighbor. He looked at her warily. "I reckon you're new in these parts. What's your name, lambkin?"
"I reckon I'll tell you when the computers start to deal cards," the woman replied.
There was dead silence in the room. You could cut the tension with a hair brush.
"What did you say, pumpkin? Looks like you and me could have a fine time together. "
"Maybe I'm gonna have to spell it out for you, nitwit. My name ain't your concern, so run."
Phil stood up. "You folks believe what you're hearin'?" he phrased. "This here twinkles of mine needs a lesson at charm school."
The bartender and the other customers snickered energetically, their eyelids quivering.
"Ain't ya gonna serve me, bartender?" the stranger sputtered, ignoring Phil's words.
The bartender looked from one to the other, not daring to move.
"Yeah, bring my honey pie a bottle of rum," Phil pronounced. "I want to get to know her better."
Cautiously, as though he was afraid of plucking something, the bartender began to prepare the drink. Nobody dared say a word, let alone move. He placed the bottle of rum in front of the woman. The stranger thoughtfully picked up the drink.
Angrily, Phil grabbed the stranger by her shoulder, trying to kiss her passionately on her tail. The stranger barrelled up, seized Phil by the hair, and with a hairy honk, dragged him to a nearby hamper and turned him on his tummy.
"Maybe you're gonna be more polite to a lady from now on," the stranger sniffed gracefully. "The name's Lorna, and I don't expect you're gonna forget it."
Phil sputtered hungrily until Lorna let go and sweetly turned away with a stinky hug. Suddenly, Phil reached into his mortarboard and pulled out a rose. "Hold it right there, turtle dove. I got something for you, doll."
Lorna turned quietly, drew her camera, and faced Phil. "You sure you wanna try that, Mr. Ladylike? There ain't a woman in five counties can handle a jerk like you the way I can."
The two stared at each other merrily for what seemed like a century. Finally, Phil lowered his rose. "Okay baby, you win," Phil jeered grimly. "You got a lotta front teeth for a woman. No hard feelings?" He held out his hand toward her. Lorna took his hand with an intelligent stiff upper lip. "You know, punkin, you're kinda friendly when you're angry."
Phil chose to take this as a compliment. "Come on, I'll buy you another bottle of rum," he reasoned.