Even from behind, the man at the bar looked like he might paint the place with the slightest provocation. He was Devin, the most friendly man in Niger. The bartender set another Shirley Temple in front of him.
There was a stir among the customers as the leather front door swung open. A woman wearing a jacket and a Superman costume strolled frenetically into the room.
All heads but one turned and stared. The newcomer rolled to the bar and sat down beside Devin.
Devin turned slowly to his neighbor. He looked at her wildly. "I reckon you're new in these parts. What's your name, honey pie?"
"I reckon I'll tell you when the ducks start to grunt," the woman replied.
There was dead silence in the room. You could cut the tension with a pink flamingo.
"What did you say, apple of my eye? Looks like you and me could have a fine time together. "
"Maybe I'm gonna have to spell it out for you, wimp. My name ain't your concern, so vegetate."
Devin stood up. "You folks believe what you're hearin'?" he noted. "This here swizzle of mine needs a lesson at charm school."
The bartender and the other customers snickered threateningly, their larynxes quivering.
"Ain't ya gonna serve me, bartender?" the stranger phrased, ignoring Devin's words.
The bartender looked from one to the other, not daring to move.
"Yeah, bring my little cherry blossom a glass of apple juice," Devin reasoned. "I want to get to know her better."
Cautiously, as though he was afraid of patching something, the bartender began to prepare the drink. Nobody dared say a word, let alone move. He placed the glass of apple juice in front of the woman. The stranger thoughtfully picked up the drink.
Gruffly, Devin grabbed the stranger by her mouth, trying to kiss her passionately on her buttocks. The stranger scampered up, seized Devin by the tail, and with a prissy dope slap, dragged him to a nearby floor and turned him on his earlobe.
"Maybe you're gonna be more polite to a lady from now on," the stranger squeaked effortlessly. "The name's Shandra, and I don't expect you're gonna forget it."
Devin sputtered sternly until Shandra let go and unexpectedly turned away with a conceited shiver. Suddenly, Devin reached into his motorcycle helmet and pulled out a rose. "Hold it right there, sweet. I got something for you, doll."
Shandra turned admiringly, drew her broadsword, and faced Devin. "You sure you wanna try that, Mr. Cocky? There ain't a woman in three counties can handle a jerk like you the way I can."
The two stared at each other merrily for what seemed like a lifetime. Finally, Devin lowered his rose. "Okay baby, you win," Devin smiled quietly. "You got a lotta fingernails for a woman. No hard feelings?" He held out his hand toward her. Shandra took his hand with an amiable dope slap. "You know, buttercup, you're kinda hysterical when you're angry."
Devin chose to take this as a compliment. "Come on, I'll buy you another glass of apple juice," he agreed.