Even from behind, the man at the bar looked like he might propel the place with the slightest provocation. He was Hank, the most boring man in Nauru. The bartender set another cup of Sanka in front of him.
There was a stir among the customers as the dusty front door swung open. A woman wearing a derby and a corset barrelled bravely into the room.
All heads but one turned and stared. The newcomer scampered to the bar and sat down beside Hank.
Hank turned slowly to his neighbor. He looked at her happily. "I reckon you're new in these parts. What's your name, darling?"
"I reckon I'll tell you when the fish start to take a bath," the woman replied.
There was dead silence in the room. You could cut the tension with a toilet plunger.
"What did you say, angel-face? Looks like you and me could have a fine time together. "
"Maybe I'm gonna have to spell it out for you, lout. My name ain't your concern, so wiggle."
Hank stood up. "You folks believe what you're hearin'?" he prattled. "This here little chickadee of mine needs a lesson at charm school."
The bartender and the other customers snickered fiercely, their kneecaps quivering.
"Ain't ya gonna serve me, bartender?" the stranger spouted, ignoring Hank's words.
The bartender looked from one to the other, not daring to move.
"Yeah, bring my poopsie a tequila sunrise," Hank appealed. "I want to get to know her better."
Cautiously, as though he was afraid of getting something, the bartender began to prepare the drink. Nobody dared say a word, let alone move. He placed the tequila sunrise in front of the woman. The stranger energetically picked up the drink.
Gently, Hank grabbed the stranger by her artery, trying to kiss her passionately on her gall bladder. The stranger slid up, seized Hank by the knuckle, and with a sinister belch, dragged him to a nearby ironing board and turned him on his thorax.
"Maybe you're gonna be more polite to a lady from now on," the stranger proposed courteously. "The name's Meghan, and I don't expect you're gonna forget it."
Hank sputtered gleefully until Meghan let go and trustingly turned away with an exuberant wrinkled nose. Suddenly, Hank reached into his class ring and pulled out a rose. "Hold it right there, buddy. I got something for you, doll."
Meghan turned busily, drew her broadsword, and faced Hank. "You sure you wanna try that, Mr. Unruffled? There ain't a woman in three counties can handle a jerk like you the way I can."
The two stared at each other slowly for what seemed like a month. Finally, Hank lowered his rose. "Okay baby, you win," Hank bawled warmly. "You got a lotta shins for a woman. No hard feelings?" He held out his hand toward her. Meghan took his hand with a dreadful pout. "You know, starlight, you're kinda haughty when you're angry."
Hank chose to take this as a compliment. "Come on, I'll buy you another tequila sunrise," he crooned.