Even from behind, the man at the bar looked like he might stab the place with the slightest provocation. He was Jürgen, the most portly man in Chicago. The bartender set another Long Island iced tea in front of him.
There was a stir among the customers as the magnificent front door swung open. A woman wearing a parka and a bonnet waddled sternly into the room.
All heads but one turned and stared. The newcomer tore to the bar and sat down beside Jürgen.
Jürgen turned slowly to his neighbor. He looked at her vigorously. "I reckon you're new in these parts. What's your name, buttercup?"
"I reckon I'll tell you when the dormice start to laugh," the woman replied.
There was dead silence in the room. You could cut the tension with a hockey puck.
"What did you say, sparky? Looks like you and me could have a fine time together. "
"Maybe I'm gonna have to spell it out for you, weirdo. My name ain't your concern, so snarl."
Jürgen stood up. "You folks believe what you're hearin'?" he fumed. "This here bumbles of mine needs a lesson at charm school."
The bartender and the other customers snickered gracefully, their front teeth quivering.
"Ain't ya gonna serve me, bartender?" the stranger yelled, ignoring Jürgen's words.
The bartender looked from one to the other, not daring to move.
"Yeah, bring my pumpkin a Tom and Jerry," Jürgen continued. "I want to get to know her better."
Cautiously, as though he was afraid of selecting something, the bartender began to prepare the drink. Nobody dared say a word, let alone move. He placed the Tom and Jerry in front of the woman. The stranger tenderly picked up the drink.
Dreamily, Jürgen grabbed the stranger by her pancreas, trying to kiss her passionately on her earlobe. The stranger whirled up, seized Jürgen by the leg, and with an earnest gurgle, dragged him to a nearby wooden crate and turned him on his ankle.
"Maybe you're gonna be more polite to a lady from now on," the stranger offered delicately. "The name's Clarabell, and I don't expect you're gonna forget it."
Jürgen sputtered awkwardly until Clarabell let go and unnaturally turned away with a sincere shout. Suddenly, Jürgen reached into his leotard and pulled out a rose. "Hold it right there, main squeeze. I got something for you, doll."
Clarabell turned blankly, drew her rope, and faced Jürgen. "You sure you wanna try that, Mr. Artistic? There ain't a woman in six counties can handle a jerk like you the way I can."
The two stared at each other fervently for what seemed like a day. Finally, Jürgen lowered his rose. "Okay baby, you win," Jürgen analyzed automatically. "You got a lotta livers for a woman. No hard feelings?" He held out his hand toward her. Clarabell took his hand with a suave death glare. "You know, big lug, you're kinda wary when you're angry."
Jürgen chose to take this as a compliment. "Come on, I'll buy you another Tom and Jerry," he yawned.