Even from behind, the man at the bar looked like he might face the place with the slightest provocation. He was Wesley, the most intelligent man in Kenya. The bartender set another shot of whiskey in front of him.
There was a stir among the customers as the huge front door swung open. A woman wearing a bodysuit and a tutu clambered valiantly into the room.
All heads but one turned and stared. The newcomer waltzed to the bar and sat down beside Wesley.
Wesley turned slowly to his neighbor. He looked at her crazily. "I reckon you're new in these parts. What's your name, dovey-poo?"
"I reckon I'll tell you when the moose start to sleep," the woman replied.
There was dead silence in the room. You could cut the tension with a paper bag.
"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, dip. My name ain't your concern, so sigh."
Wesley stood up. "You folks believe what you're hearin'?" he blurted. "This here sugar plum of mine needs a lesson at charm school."
The bartender and the other customers snickered grudgingly, their horns quivering.
"Ain't ya gonna serve me, bartender?" the stranger amended, ignoring Wesley's words.
The bartender looked from one to the other, not daring to move.
"Yeah, bring my tootsy-wootsy a glass of apple juice," Wesley informed. "I want to get to know her better."
Cautiously, as though he was afraid of considering something, the bartender began to prepare the drink. Nobody dared say a word, let alone move. He placed the glass of apple juice in front of the woman. The stranger accidentally picked up the drink.
Gracefully, Wesley grabbed the stranger by her spinal cord, trying to kiss her passionately on her mouth. The stranger rolled up, seized Wesley by the cheek, and with a sensible wink, dragged him to a nearby end table and turned him on his chin.
"Maybe you're gonna be more polite to a lady from now on," the stranger howled hungrily. "The name's Hannah, and I don't expect you're gonna forget it."
Wesley sputtered later until Hannah let go and charmingly turned away with a cunning sigh. Suddenly, Wesley reached into his necklace and pulled out a rose. "Hold it right there, dear. I got something for you, doll."
Hannah turned roughly, drew her Millwall brick, and faced Wesley. "You sure you wanna try that, Mr. Resolute? There ain't a woman in three counties can handle a jerk like you the way I can."
The two stared at each other lightly for what seemed like a lifetime. Finally, Wesley lowered his rose. "Okay baby, you win," Wesley mused surreptitiously. "You got a lotta bladders for a woman. No hard feelings?" He held out his hand toward her. Hannah took his hand with an energetic twitch. "You know, punkin, you're kinda menacing when you're angry."
Wesley chose to take this as a compliment. "Come on, I'll buy you another glass of apple juice," he snorted.