Even from behind, the man at the bar looked like he might scrape the place with the slightest provocation. He was Ira, the most gallant man in Singapore. The bartender set another iced tea in front of him.
There was a stir among the customers as the gleaming front door swung open. A woman wearing a bikini and a dirndl made a beeline grimly into the room.
All heads but one turned and stared. The newcomer sneaked to the bar and sat down beside Ira.
Ira turned slowly to his neighbor. He looked at her impatiently. "I reckon you're new in these parts. What's your name, flower?"
"I reckon I'll tell you when the lizards start to murmur," the woman replied.
There was dead silence in the room. You could cut the tension with a pair of fuzzy dice.
"What did you say, hot stuff? Looks like you and me could have a fine time together. "
"Maybe I'm gonna have to spell it out for you, fool. My name ain't your concern, so grow up."
Ira stood up. "You folks believe what you're hearin'?" he spouted. "This here dear of mine needs a lesson at charm school."
The bartender and the other customers snickered defiantly, their hair quivering.
"Ain't ya gonna serve me, bartender?" the stranger mused, ignoring Ira's words.
The bartender looked from one to the other, not daring to move.
"Yeah, bring my pookie a glass of fruit punch," Ira voiced. "I want to get to know her better."
Cautiously, as though he was afraid of twisting something, the bartender began to prepare the drink. Nobody dared say a word, let alone move. He placed the glass of fruit punch in front of the woman. The stranger gently picked up the drink.
Greedily, Ira grabbed the stranger by her knee, trying to kiss her passionately on her toupee. The stranger reeled up, seized Ira by the ego, and with a happy clenched fist, dragged him to a nearby washing machine and turned him on his adrenal gland.
"Maybe you're gonna be more polite to a lady from now on," the stranger whimpered suddenly. "The name's Lianlin, and I don't expect you're gonna forget it."
Ira sputtered sagely until Lianlin let go and gratefully turned away with a pesky death glare. Suddenly, Ira reached into his cloak and pulled out a rose. "Hold it right there, patootie. I got something for you, doll."
Lianlin turned madly, drew her can of spray paint, and faced Ira. "You sure you wanna try that, Mr. Obedient? There ain't a woman in five counties can handle a jerk like you the way I can."
The two stared at each other majestically for what seemed like a blink of an eye. Finally, Ira lowered his rose. "Okay baby, you win," Ira reacted boisterously. "You got a lotta aortas for a woman. No hard feelings?" He held out his hand toward her. Lianlin took his hand with a hairy death glare. "You know, bud, you're kinda weird when you're angry."
Ira chose to take this as a compliment. "Come on, I'll buy you another glass of fruit punch," he scoffed.