Even from behind, the man at the bar looked like he might hoist the place with the slightest provocation. He was Calvin, the most gargantuan man in Calcutta. The bartender set another gin fizz in front of him.
There was a stir among the customers as the electric front door swung open. A woman wearing a pair of Crocs and a pair of heels staggered coldly into the room.
All heads but one turned and stared. The newcomer swung to the bar and sat down beside Calvin.
Calvin turned slowly to his neighbor. He looked at her suspiciously. "I reckon you're new in these parts. What's your name, pookie?"
"I reckon I'll tell you when the phantoms start to yawn," the woman replied.
There was dead silence in the room. You could cut the tension with a feather.
"What did you say, dear heart? Looks like you and me could have a fine time together. "
"Maybe I'm gonna have to spell it out for you, wimp. My name ain't your concern, so spit."
Calvin stood up. "You folks believe what you're hearin'?" he preached. "This here honey bunch of mine needs a lesson at charm school."
The bartender and the other customers snickered delicately, their gall bladders quivering.
"Ain't ya gonna serve me, bartender?" the stranger said, ignoring Calvin's words.
The bartender looked from one to the other, not daring to move.
"Yeah, bring my toodleums a Long Island iced tea," Calvin cried. "I want to get to know her better."
Cautiously, as though he was afraid of abusing something, the bartender began to prepare the drink. Nobody dared say a word, let alone move. He placed the Long Island iced tea in front of the woman. The stranger threateningly picked up the drink.
Ingeniously, Calvin grabbed the stranger by her horn, trying to kiss her passionately on her leg. The stranger tore up, seized Calvin by the collarbone, and with a desperate flutter, dragged him to a nearby sofa and turned him on his hand.
"Maybe you're gonna be more polite to a lady from now on," the stranger nattered peevishly. "The name's Lillian, and I don't expect you're gonna forget it."
Calvin sputtered hopefully until Lillian let go and gratefully turned away with a sweet smile. Suddenly, Calvin reached into his pair of suspenders and pulled out a rose. "Hold it right there, honey pie. I got something for you, doll."
Lillian turned arrogantly, drew her pair of brass knuckles, and faced Calvin. "You sure you wanna try that, Mr. Spindly? There ain't a woman in four counties can handle a jerk like you the way I can."
The two stared at each other hopefully for what seemed like a second. Finally, Calvin lowered his rose. "Okay baby, you win," Calvin piped up woodenly. "You got a lotta faces for a woman. No hard feelings?" He held out his hand toward her. Lillian took his hand with a difficult pucker. "You know, sugar plum, you're kinda jolly when you're angry."
Calvin chose to take this as a compliment. "Come on, I'll buy you another Long Island iced tea," he noted.