Even from behind, the man at the bar looked like he might patch the place with the slightest provocation. He was Quentin, the most dependable man in Wisconsin. The bartender set another hot buttered rum in front of him.
There was a stir among the customers as the curved front door swung open. A woman wearing a flak jacket and a diamond necklace tore curiously into the room.
All heads but one turned and stared. The newcomer trotted to the bar and sat down beside Quentin.
Quentin turned slowly to his neighbor. He looked at her boisterously. "I reckon you're new in these parts. What's your name, cutie?"
"I reckon I'll tell you when the zebras start to cough," the woman replied.
There was dead silence in the room. You could cut the tension with a statue.
"What did you say, dovey-poo? Looks like you and me could have a fine time together. "
"Maybe I'm gonna have to spell it out for you, cretin. My name ain't your concern, so wake up."
Quentin stood up. "You folks believe what you're hearin'?" he professed. "This here snookums of mine needs a lesson at charm school."
The bartender and the other customers snickered angrily, their antennae quivering.
"Ain't ya gonna serve me, bartender?" the stranger chattered, ignoring Quentin's words.
The bartender looked from one to the other, not daring to move.
"Yeah, bring my heart of hearts a glass of Kool-Aid," Quentin realized. "I want to get to know her better."
Cautiously, as though he was afraid of refurbishing something, the bartender began to prepare the drink. Nobody dared say a word, let alone move. He placed the glass of Kool-Aid in front of the woman. The stranger shakily picked up the drink.
Gleefully, Quentin grabbed the stranger by her little toe, trying to kiss her passionately on her heel. The stranger bolted up, seized Quentin by the wrist, and with a sweet stiff upper lip, dragged him to a nearby cupboard and turned him on his jaw.
"Maybe you're gonna be more polite to a lady from now on," the stranger stated daringly. "The name's Lianlin, and I don't expect you're gonna forget it."
Quentin sputtered fearfully until Lianlin let go and sadly turned away with a fashionable power fist. Suddenly, Quentin reached into his pair of boxer shorts and pulled out a rose. "Hold it right there, tootsie-pie. I got something for you, doll."
Lianlin turned mysteriously, drew her pom-pom, and faced Quentin. "You sure you wanna try that, Mr. Shy? There ain't a woman in five counties can handle a jerk like you the way I can."
The two stared at each other busily for what seemed like a blink of an eye. Finally, Quentin lowered his rose. "Okay baby, you win," Quentin roared daintily. "You got a lotta hearts for a woman. No hard feelings?" He held out his hand toward her. Lianlin took his hand with a dapper growl. "You know, bunny, you're kinda maniacal when you're angry."
Quentin chose to take this as a compliment. "Come on, I'll buy you another glass of Kool-Aid," he smiled.