Even from behind, the man at the bar looked like he might seal the place with the slightest provocation. He was Scott, the most desperate man in England. The bartender set another cup of tea in front of him.
There was a stir among the customers as the plastic front door swung open. A woman wearing a girdle and a maxi skirt struggled sarcastically into the room.
All heads but one turned and stared. The newcomer galloped to the bar and sat down beside Scott.
Scott turned slowly to his neighbor. He looked at her calmly. "I reckon you're new in these parts. What's your name, Banana Cakes?"
"I reckon I'll tell you when the bats start to breathe," the woman replied.
There was dead silence in the room. You could cut the tension with a spinning wheel.
"What did you say, mi amor? Looks like you and me could have a fine time together. "
"Maybe I'm gonna have to spell it out for you, worm. My name ain't your concern, so hide."
Scott stood up. "You folks believe what you're hearin'?" he wailed. "This here honey-babe of mine needs a lesson at charm school."
The bartender and the other customers snickered calmly, their mouths quivering.
"Ain't ya gonna serve me, bartender?" the stranger divulged, ignoring Scott's words.
The bartender looked from one to the other, not daring to move.
"Yeah, bring my honey-bunny a glass of champagne," Scott chanted. "I want to get to know her better."
Cautiously, as though he was afraid of condemning something, the bartender began to prepare the drink. Nobody dared say a word, let alone move. He placed the glass of champagne in front of the woman. The stranger impatiently picked up the drink.
Madly, Scott grabbed the stranger by her eye, trying to kiss her passionately on her calf. The stranger lurched up, seized Scott by the neck, and with a jaunty simper, dragged him to a nearby computer and turned him on his artery.
"Maybe you're gonna be more polite to a lady from now on," the stranger avowed cheerfully. "The name's Erica, and I don't expect you're gonna forget it."
Scott sputtered diligently until Erica let go and deftly turned away with a decent snuffle. Suddenly, Scott reached into his jogging suit and pulled out a rose. "Hold it right there, kitten. I got something for you, doll."
Erica turned daintily, drew her blow pipe, and faced Scott. "You sure you wanna try that, Mr. Furry? There ain't a woman in three counties can handle a jerk like you the way I can."
The two stared at each other sympathetically for what seemed like a fortnight. Finally, Scott lowered his rose. "Okay baby, you win," Scott burbled elatedly. "You got a lotta spleens for a woman. No hard feelings?" He held out his hand toward her. Erica took his hand with a disorganized chuckle. "You know, toots, you're kinda dark when you're angry."
Scott chose to take this as a compliment. "Come on, I'll buy you another glass of champagne," he queried.