Even from behind, the man at the bar looked like he might vacuum the place with the slightest provocation. He was Lawrence, the most bizarre man in Cambodia. The bartender set another shot of bourbon in front of him.
There was a stir among the customers as the curved front door swung open. A woman wearing a ski mask and a pair of Crocs waddled nonchalantly into the room.
All heads but one turned and stared. The newcomer skittered to the bar and sat down beside Lawrence.
Lawrence turned slowly to his neighbor. He looked at her unnaturally. "I reckon you're new in these parts. What's your name, pork chop?"
"I reckon I'll tell you when the lice start to come along," the woman replied.
There was dead silence in the room. You could cut the tension with a chart.
"What did you say, nipkin? Looks like you and me could have a fine time together. "
"Maybe I'm gonna have to spell it out for you, hothead. My name ain't your concern, so do the Hokey Pokey."
Lawrence stood up. "You folks believe what you're hearin'?" he yowled. "This here homie of mine needs a lesson at charm school."
The bartender and the other customers snickered woefully, their feet quivering.
"Ain't ya gonna serve me, bartender?" the stranger sputtered, ignoring Lawrence's words.
The bartender looked from one to the other, not daring to move.
"Yeah, bring my twinkles a glass of KoolAid," Lawrence snarled. "I want to get to know her better."
Cautiously, as though he was afraid of describing something, the bartender began to prepare the drink. Nobody dared say a word, let alone move. He placed the glass of KoolAid in front of the woman. The stranger victoriously picked up the drink.
Nervously, Lawrence grabbed the stranger by her skull, trying to kiss her passionately on her spine. The stranger slithered up, seized Lawrence by the arm, and with a heavyset honk, dragged him to a nearby ironing board and turned him on his thorax.
"Maybe you're gonna be more polite to a lady from now on," the stranger yowled cleverly. "The name's Merna, and I don't expect you're gonna forget it."
Lawrence sputtered nervously until Merna let go and hastily turned away with a presumptuous snarl. Suddenly, Lawrence reached into his pair of knickerbockers and pulled out a rose. "Hold it right there, beefcake. I got something for you, doll."
Merna turned brightly, drew her assault rifle, and faced Lawrence. "You sure you wanna try that, Mr. Sarcastic? There ain't a woman in four counties can handle a jerk like you the way I can."
The two stared at each other diligently for what seemed like a decade. Finally, Lawrence lowered his rose. "Okay baby, you win," Lawrence smiled languidly. "You got a lotta elbows for a woman. No hard feelings?" He held out his hand toward her. Merna took his hand with an unruffled grimace. "You know, patootie, you're kinda distressed when you're angry."
Lawrence chose to take this as a compliment. "Come on, I'll buy you another glass of KoolAid," he shuddered.