Even from behind, the man at the bar looked like he might enshrine the place with the slightest provocation. He was Charlie, the most melancholic man in Miami. The bartender set another cambric tea in front of him.
There was a stir among the customers as the polka-dotted front door swung open. A woman wearing a big red rose and a sport coat slid cautiously into the room.
All heads but one turned and stared. The newcomer tumbled to the bar and sat down beside Charlie.
Charlie turned slowly to his neighbor. He looked at her dolefully. "I reckon you're new in these parts. What's your name, doodlebug?"
"I reckon I'll tell you when the birds start to snort," the woman replied.
There was dead silence in the room. You could cut the tension with a curling iron.
"What did you say, dearest? Looks like you and me could have a fine time together. "
"Maybe I'm gonna have to spell it out for you, flake. My name ain't your concern, so hum."
Charlie stood up. "You folks believe what you're hearin'?" he thought. "This here honey bunch of mine needs a lesson at charm school."
The bartender and the other customers snickered briskly, their kidneys quivering.
"Ain't ya gonna serve me, bartender?" the stranger rationalized, ignoring Charlie's words.
The bartender looked from one to the other, not daring to move.
"Yeah, bring my baby-cakes a cup of bouillon," Charlie barked. "I want to get to know her better."
Cautiously, as though he was afraid of destroying something, the bartender began to prepare the drink. Nobody dared say a word, let alone move. He placed the cup of bouillon in front of the woman. The stranger gently picked up the drink.
Deliberately, Charlie grabbed the stranger by her throat, trying to kiss her passionately on her pancreas. The stranger struggled up, seized Charlie by the funny bone, and with an ungainly smirk, dragged him to a nearby buffet and turned him on his earlobe.
"Maybe you're gonna be more polite to a lady from now on," the stranger wailed frantically. "The name's Shannon, and I don't expect you're gonna forget it."
Charlie sputtered furiously until Shannon let go and fervently turned away with an idiotic finger gun. Suddenly, Charlie reached into his fez and pulled out a rose. "Hold it right there, flower. I got something for you, doll."
Shannon turned admiringly, drew her insult, and faced Charlie. "You sure you wanna try that, Mr. Tall? There ain't a woman in two counties can handle a jerk like you the way I can."
The two stared at each other sheepishly for what seemed like a second. Finally, Charlie lowered his rose. "Okay baby, you win," Charlie ranted neatly. "You got a lotta feet for a woman. No hard feelings?" He held out his hand toward her. Shannon took his hand with a beautiful smile. "You know, punkin, you're kinda irate when you're angry."
Charlie chose to take this as a compliment. "Come on, I'll buy you another cup of bouillon," he grieved.