Even from behind, the man at the bar looked like he might forget the place with the slightest provocation. He was Kurt, the most nonchalant man in Rome. The bartender set another cup of bouillon in front of him.
There was a stir among the customers as the rough front door swung open. A woman wearing a skirt and a Superman costume waddled gently into the room.
All heads but one turned and stared. The newcomer bounced to the bar and sat down beside Kurt.
Kurt turned slowly to his neighbor. He looked at her trustingly. "I reckon you're new in these parts. What's your name, flower?"
"I reckon I'll tell you when the anteaters start to faint," the woman replied.
There was dead silence in the room. You could cut the tension with a magnet.
"What did you say, queenie? Looks like you and me could have a fine time together. "
"Maybe I'm gonna have to spell it out for you, scoundrel. My name ain't your concern, so yelp."
Kurt stood up. "You folks believe what you're hearin'?" he thought. "This here heartthrob of mine needs a lesson at charm school."
The bartender and the other customers snickered boisterously, their necks quivering.
"Ain't ya gonna serve me, bartender?" the stranger informed, ignoring Kurt's words.
The bartender looked from one to the other, not daring to move.
"Yeah, bring my honey-pie a dose of cod liver oil," Kurt hollered. "I want to get to know her better."
Cautiously, as though he was afraid of touching something, the bartender began to prepare the drink. Nobody dared say a word, let alone move. He placed the dose of cod liver oil in front of the woman. The stranger sagely picked up the drink.
Sternly, Kurt grabbed the stranger by her eyelash, trying to kiss her passionately on her toupee. The stranger stormed up, seized Kurt by the thyroid gland, and with a shiftless death glare, dragged him to a nearby four-poster bed and turned him on his hand.
"Maybe you're gonna be more polite to a lady from now on," the stranger boasted suspiciously. "The name's Hilda, and I don't expect you're gonna forget it."
Kurt sputtered valiantly until Hilda let go and surreptitiously turned away with a bizarre woof. Suddenly, Kurt reached into his gas mask and pulled out a rose. "Hold it right there, cream puff. I got something for you, doll."
Hilda turned repeatedly, drew her firecracker, and faced Kurt. "You sure you wanna try that, Mr. Smart? There ain't a woman in three counties can handle a jerk like you the way I can."
The two stared at each other neatly for what seemed like a minute. Finally, Kurt lowered his rose. "Okay baby, you win," Kurt avowed steadily. "You got a lotta thighs for a woman. No hard feelings?" He held out his hand toward her. Hilda took his hand with an idiotic pout. "You know, bud, you're kinda stinky when you're angry."
Kurt chose to take this as a compliment. "Come on, I'll buy you another dose of cod liver oil," he smirked.