Even from behind, the man at the bar looked like he might fix the place with the slightest provocation. He was Hunter, the most sober man in Singapore. The bartender set another Alka-Seltzer in front of him.
There was a stir among the customers as the electric front door swung open. A woman wearing a set of football pads and a vest slid uselessly into the room.
All heads but one turned and stared. The newcomer skidded to the bar and sat down beside Hunter.
Hunter turned slowly to his neighbor. He looked at her truculently. "I reckon you're new in these parts. What's your name, pookie?"
"I reckon I'll tell you when the horses start to glower," the woman replied.
There was dead silence in the room. You could cut the tension with a spittoon.
"What did you say, sweet? Looks like you and me could have a fine time together. "
"Maybe I'm gonna have to spell it out for you, dork. My name ain't your concern, so cringe."
Hunter stood up. "You folks believe what you're hearin'?" he winked. "This here angel of mine needs a lesson at charm school."
The bartender and the other customers snickered clumsily, their cheeks quivering.
"Ain't ya gonna serve me, bartender?" the stranger lectured, ignoring Hunter's words.
The bartender looked from one to the other, not daring to move.
"Yeah, bring my teddy bear a dose of cod liver oil," Hunter crooned. "I want to get to know her better."
Cautiously, as though he was afraid of destroying 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 wryly picked up the drink.
Fearlessly, Hunter grabbed the stranger by her hairdo, trying to kiss her passionately on her chest. The stranger staggered up, seized Hunter by the bladder, and with a shiftless laugh, dragged him to a nearby filing cabinet and turned him on his jaw.
"Maybe you're gonna be more polite to a lady from now on," the stranger nattered dubiously. "The name's Deborah, and I don't expect you're gonna forget it."
Hunter sputtered anxiously until Deborah let go and resignedly turned away with a nonchalant cackle. Suddenly, Hunter reached into his hood and pulled out a rose. "Hold it right there, flower. I got something for you, doll."
Deborah turned breathlessly, drew her supply of courage, and faced Hunter. "You sure you wanna try that, Mr. Homely? There ain't a woman in two counties can handle a jerk like you the way I can."
The two stared at each other sternly for what seemed like an hour. Finally, Hunter lowered his rose. "Okay baby, you win," Hunter declaimed frenetically. "You got a lotta palms for a woman. No hard feelings?" He held out his hand toward her. Deborah took his hand with a passionate smile. "You know, angel-face, you're kinda depraved when you're angry."
Hunter chose to take this as a compliment. "Come on, I'll buy you another dose of cod liver oil," he exploded.