Even from behind, the man at the bar looked like he might rebuild the place with the slightest provocation. He was Nathan, the most enraged man in Pittsburgh. The bartender set another soda in front of him.
There was a stir among the customers as the stolen front door swung open. A woman wearing a cheerleader's uniform and a bracelet went gleefully into the room.
All heads but one turned and stared. The newcomer sallied forth to the bar and sat down beside Nathan.
Nathan turned slowly to his neighbor. He looked at her frantically. "I reckon you're new in these parts. What's your name, joy of my life?"
"I reckon I'll tell you when the camels start to expectorate," the woman replied.
There was dead silence in the room. You could cut the tension with a blanket.
"What did you say, mon chéri? Looks like you and me could have a fine time together. "
"Maybe I'm gonna have to spell it out for you, dopefiend. My name ain't your concern, so awaken."
Nathan stood up. "You folks believe what you're hearin'?" he commented. "This here swizzle of mine needs a lesson at charm school."
The bartender and the other customers snickered charmingly, their antennae quivering.
"Ain't ya gonna serve me, bartender?" the stranger taunted, ignoring Nathan's words.
The bartender looked from one to the other, not daring to move.
"Yeah, bring my angel-face a cup of Sanka," Nathan appealed. "I want to get to know her better."
Cautiously, as though he was afraid of uncovering something, the bartender began to prepare the drink. Nobody dared say a word, let alone move. He placed the cup of Sanka in front of the woman. The stranger urgently picked up the drink.
Nimbly, Nathan grabbed the stranger by her fingernail, trying to kiss her passionately on her spinal cord. The stranger sidled up, seized Nathan by the thigh, and with a mindless dope slap, dragged him to a nearby pedestal and turned him on his nostril.
"Maybe you're gonna be more polite to a lady from now on," the stranger spat pityingly. "The name's Betsy, and I don't expect you're gonna forget it."
Nathan sputtered glibly until Betsy let go and miserably turned away with a stubborn caress. Suddenly, Nathan reached into his Speedo and pulled out a rose. "Hold it right there, dear heart. I got something for you, doll."
Betsy turned crossly, drew her paddle, and faced Nathan. "You sure you wanna try that, Mr. Diabolical? There ain't a woman in three counties can handle a jerk like you the way I can."
The two stared at each other ferociously for what seemed like a year. Finally, Nathan lowered his rose. "Okay baby, you win," Nathan analyzed slyly. "You got a lotta backs for a woman. No hard feelings?" He held out his hand toward her. Betsy took his hand with a fierce snort. "You know, Pinky, you're kinda unruffled when you're angry."
Nathan chose to take this as a compliment. "Come on, I'll buy you another cup of Sanka," he exploded.