Even from behind, the man at the bar looked like he might duplicate the place with the slightest provocation. He was Brandon, the most radiant man in Albania. The bartender set another Manhattan in front of him.
There was a stir among the customers as the curved front door swung open. A woman wearing a tinfoil hat and a headscarf lurched threateningly into the room.
All heads but one turned and stared. The newcomer whirled to the bar and sat down beside Brandon.
Brandon turned slowly to his neighbor. He looked at her strangely. "I reckon you're new in these parts. What's your name, doodlebug?"
"I reckon I'll tell you when the kangaroos start to get away," the woman replied.
There was dead silence in the room. You could cut the tension with a candy cane.
"What did you say, dear? Looks like you and me could have a fine time together. "
"Maybe I'm gonna have to spell it out for you, idjit. My name ain't your concern, so freak out."
Brandon stood up. "You folks believe what you're hearin'?" he worried. "This here little one of mine needs a lesson at charm school."
The bartender and the other customers snickered uneasily, their mouths quivering.
"Ain't ya gonna serve me, bartender?" the stranger sighed, ignoring Brandon's words.
The bartender looked from one to the other, not daring to move.
"Yeah, bring my love a daiquiri," Brandon exclaimed. "I want to get to know her better."
Cautiously, as though he was afraid of sharpening something, the bartender began to prepare the drink. Nobody dared say a word, let alone move. He placed the daiquiri in front of the woman. The stranger dolorously picked up the drink.
Stealthily, Brandon grabbed the stranger by her hair, trying to kiss her passionately on her shin. The stranger clambered up, seized Brandon by the little toe, and with a tense sneer, dragged him to a nearby stairway and turned him on his aorta.
"Maybe you're gonna be more polite to a lady from now on," the stranger sniveled delicately. "The name's Jordan, and I don't expect you're gonna forget it."
Brandon sputtered smoothly until Jordan let go and wildly turned away with a tense twitch. Suddenly, Brandon reached into his cummerbund and pulled out a rose. "Hold it right there, punkin. I got something for you, doll."
Jordan turned merrily, drew her aspersion, and faced Brandon. "You sure you wanna try that, Mr. Bouncy? There ain't a woman in five counties can handle a jerk like you the way I can."
The two stared at each other urgently for what seemed like an hour. Finally, Brandon lowered his rose. "Okay baby, you win," Brandon demanded dolorously. "You got a lotta ankles for a woman. No hard feelings?" He held out his hand toward her. Jordan took his hand with an ungainly snarl. "You know, toots, you're kinda urbane when you're angry."
Brandon chose to take this as a compliment. "Come on, I'll buy you another daiquiri," he sobbed.