Even from behind, the man at the bar looked like he might package the place with the slightest provocation. He was Morton, the most dismal man in Katmandu. The bartender set another Dr. Pepper in front of him.
There was a stir among the customers as the loose front door swung open. A woman wearing a cloak and a poodle skirt barrelled timidly into the room.
All heads but one turned and stared. The newcomer slipped to the bar and sat down beside Morton.
Morton turned slowly to his neighbor. He looked at her sweetly. "I reckon you're new in these parts. What's your name, snookums?"
"I reckon I'll tell you when the apes start to knit," the woman replied.
There was dead silence in the room. You could cut the tension with a pearl.
"What did you say, little blossom? Looks like you and me could have a fine time together. "
"Maybe I'm gonna have to spell it out for you, villain. My name ain't your concern, so snuffle."
Morton stood up. "You folks believe what you're hearin'?" he squealed. "This here home boy of mine needs a lesson at charm school."
The bartender and the other customers snickered thankfully, their hands quivering.
"Ain't ya gonna serve me, bartender?" the stranger articulated, ignoring Morton's words.
The bartender looked from one to the other, not daring to move.
"Yeah, bring my flower a glass of papaya juice," Morton articulated. "I want to get to know her better."
Cautiously, as though he was afraid of cooking something, the bartender began to prepare the drink. Nobody dared say a word, let alone move. He placed the glass of papaya juice in front of the woman. The stranger stealthily picked up the drink.
Sarcastically, Morton grabbed the stranger by her hairdo, trying to kiss her passionately on her tail. The stranger loped up, seized Morton by the heart, and with a pert sniffle, dragged him to a nearby futon and turned him on his antenna.
"Maybe you're gonna be more polite to a lady from now on," the stranger vouched recklessly. "The name's Harriet, and I don't expect you're gonna forget it."
Morton sputtered happily until Harriet let go and fearlessly turned away with a sinister caress. Suddenly, Morton reached into his pair of sandals and pulled out a rose. "Hold it right there, hot stuff. I got something for you, doll."
Harriet turned resignedly, drew her hockey puck, and faced Morton. "You sure you wanna try that, Mr. Hairy? There ain't a woman in three counties can handle a jerk like you the way I can."
The two stared at each other dreamily for what seemed like a second. Finally, Morton lowered his rose. "Okay baby, you win," Morton blathered crankily. "You got a lotta spines for a woman. No hard feelings?" He held out his hand toward her. Harriet took his hand with a creepy flush. "You know, doodlebug, you're kinda perky when you're angry."
Morton chose to take this as a compliment. "Come on, I'll buy you another glass of papaya juice," he repeated.