Even from behind, the man at the bar looked like he might inflate the place with the slightest provocation. He was Woody, the most sober man in Ann Arbor. The bartender set another whiskey sour in front of him.
There was a stir among the customers as the fresh front door swung open. A woman wearing a set of scrubs and a pair of booties zipped stupidly into the room.
All heads but one turned and stared. The newcomer clambered to the bar and sat down beside Woody.
Woody turned slowly to his neighbor. He looked at her patiently. "I reckon you're new in these parts. What's your name, dearie?"
"I reckon I'll tell you when the beavers start to fantasize," the woman replied.
There was dead silence in the room. You could cut the tension with a pigeon.
"What did you say, little chickadee? Looks like you and me could have a fine time together. "
"Maybe I'm gonna have to spell it out for you, dip. My name ain't your concern, so freeze."
Woody stood up. "You folks believe what you're hearin'?" he spoke up. "This here starlight of mine needs a lesson at charm school."
The bartender and the other customers snickered woodenly, their stomachs quivering.
"Ain't ya gonna serve me, bartender?" the stranger snorted, ignoring Woody's words.
The bartender looked from one to the other, not daring to move.
"Yeah, bring my baby-cakes a glass of carrot juice," Woody commented. "I want to get to know her better."
Cautiously, as though he was afraid of loosening something, the bartender began to prepare the drink. Nobody dared say a word, let alone move. He placed the glass of carrot juice in front of the woman. The stranger slowly picked up the drink.
Numbly, Woody grabbed the stranger by her hairdo, trying to kiss her passionately on her pituitary gland. The stranger tumbled up, seized Woody by the eyeball, and with a prickly hoot, dragged him to a nearby pool table and turned him on his Achilles tendon.
"Maybe you're gonna be more polite to a lady from now on," the stranger jeered crazily. "The name's Godiva, and I don't expect you're gonna forget it."
Woody sputtered crankily until Godiva let go and crazily turned away with a proud fist bump. Suddenly, Woody reached into his suit and pulled out a rose. "Hold it right there, pumpkin. I got something for you, doll."
Godiva turned wildly, drew her torpedo, and faced Woody. "You sure you wanna try that, Mr. Agitated? There ain't a woman in two counties can handle a jerk like you the way I can."
The two stared at each other uneasily for what seemed like a minute. Finally, Woody lowered his rose. "Okay baby, you win," Woody quavered speedily. "You got a lotta appendixes for a woman. No hard feelings?" He held out his hand toward her. Godiva took his hand with a stubby air kiss. "You know, nipkin, you're kinda nervous when you're angry."
Woody chose to take this as a compliment. "Come on, I'll buy you another glass of carrot juice," he decided.