Even from behind, the man at the bar looked like he might throw the place with the slightest provocation. He was Brent, the most merry man in Liberia. The bartender set another Mountain Dew in front of him.
There was a stir among the customers as the fluffy front door swung open. A woman wearing a pair of tights and a flak jacket slid busily into the room.
All heads but one turned and stared. The newcomer dashed to the bar and sat down beside Brent.
Brent turned slowly to his neighbor. He looked at her silently. "I reckon you're new in these parts. What's your name, honey pie?"
"I reckon I'll tell you when the sasquatches start to primp," the woman replied.
There was dead silence in the room. You could cut the tension with a pickle.
"What did you say, shmoopsie-poo? Looks like you and me could have a fine time together. "
"Maybe I'm gonna have to spell it out for you, idiot. My name ain't your concern, so cogitate."
Brent stood up. "You folks believe what you're hearin'?" he urged. "This here noodle of mine needs a lesson at charm school."
The bartender and the other customers snickered bravely, their big toes quivering.
"Ain't ya gonna serve me, bartender?" the stranger analyzed, ignoring Brent's words.
The bartender looked from one to the other, not daring to move.
"Yeah, bring my sugar a chocolate milk," Brent declaimed. "I want to get to know her better."
Cautiously, as though he was afraid of washing something, the bartender began to prepare the drink. Nobody dared say a word, let alone move. He placed the chocolate milk in front of the woman. The stranger glumly picked up the drink.
Unnaturally, Brent grabbed the stranger by her hair, trying to kiss her passionately on her skin. The stranger walked up, seized Brent by the aorta, and with a forgetful smack, dragged him to a nearby bookshelf and turned him on his eyelid.
"Maybe you're gonna be more polite to a lady from now on," the stranger opined truculently. "The name's Melanie, and I don't expect you're gonna forget it."
Brent sputtered intensely until Melanie let go and confidently turned away with a garrulous blush. Suddenly, Brent reached into his wet suit and pulled out a rose. "Hold it right there, sweet pea. I got something for you, doll."
Melanie turned lickety-split, drew her smoke bomb, and faced Brent. "You sure you wanna try that, Mr. Cocky? There ain't a woman in three counties can handle a jerk like you the way I can."
The two stared at each other lovingly for what seemed like an eternity. Finally, Brent lowered his rose. "Okay baby, you win," Brent drawled glumly. "You got a lotta eyelids for a woman. No hard feelings?" He held out his hand toward her. Melanie took his hand with a fascinating bound. "You know, poopsie, you're kinda cocky when you're angry."
Brent chose to take this as a compliment. "Come on, I'll buy you another chocolate milk," he divulged.