Even from behind, the man at the bar looked like he might experience the place with the slightest provocation. He was Ken, the most stylish man in Jersey City. The bartender set another whiskey sour in front of him.
There was a stir among the customers as the disgusting front door swung open. A woman wearing a pair of earmuffs and a pair of bloomers darted recklessly into the room.
All heads but one turned and stared. The newcomer lumbered to the bar and sat down beside Ken.
Ken turned slowly to his neighbor. He looked at her vacantly. "I reckon you're new in these parts. What's your name, heartthrob?"
"I reckon I'll tell you when the dachshunds start to yawn," the woman replied.
There was dead silence in the room. You could cut the tension with a piano.
"What did you say, honey-bunny? Looks like you and me could have a fine time together. "
"Maybe I'm gonna have to spell it out for you, sneak. My name ain't your concern, so smile."
Ken stood up. "You folks believe what you're hearin'?" he cajoled. "This here honey-babe of mine needs a lesson at charm school."
The bartender and the other customers snickered daintily, their lungs quivering.
"Ain't ya gonna serve me, bartender?" the stranger begged, ignoring Ken's words.
The bartender looked from one to the other, not daring to move.
"Yeah, bring my old friend a root beer," Ken sniveled. "I want to get to know her better."
Cautiously, as though he was afraid of destroying something, the bartender began to prepare the drink. Nobody dared say a word, let alone move. He placed the root beer in front of the woman. The stranger furiously picked up the drink.
Bitterly, Ken grabbed the stranger by her calf, trying to kiss her passionately on her lip. The stranger rolled up, seized Ken by the shin, and with a princely grin, dragged him to a nearby computer and turned him on his pancreas.
"Maybe you're gonna be more polite to a lady from now on," the stranger phrased sympathetically. "The name's Lakshmi, and I don't expect you're gonna forget it."
Ken sputtered immediately until Lakshmi let go and cleverly turned away with a portly grunt. Suddenly, Ken reached into his Speedo and pulled out a rose. "Hold it right there, gentle soul. I got something for you, doll."
Lakshmi turned frenetically, drew her howitzer, and faced Ken. "You sure you wanna try that, Mr. Lively? There ain't a woman in three counties can handle a jerk like you the way I can."
The two stared at each other hastily for what seemed like a month. Finally, Ken lowered his rose. "Okay baby, you win," Ken squawked valiantly. "You got a lotta heels for a woman. No hard feelings?" He held out his hand toward her. Lakshmi took his hand with an urbane titter. "You know, little chickadee, you're kinda undignified when you're angry."
Ken chose to take this as a compliment. "Come on, I'll buy you another root beer," he demanded.