Even from behind, the man at the bar looked like he might freeze the place with the slightest provocation. He was Lucas, the most vacuous man in Algiers. The bartender set another grape soda in front of him.
There was a stir among the customers as the brittle front door swung open. A woman wearing a vest and a pair of galoshes sailed suddenly into the room.
All heads but one turned and stared. The newcomer proceeded to the bar and sat down beside Lucas.
Lucas turned slowly to his neighbor. He looked at her needlessly. "I reckon you're new in these parts. What's your name, twinkles?"
"I reckon I'll tell you when the panthers start to get sleepy," the woman replied.
There was dead silence in the room. You could cut the tension with a Band-aid.
"What did you say, big lug? Looks like you and me could have a fine time together. "
"Maybe I'm gonna have to spell it out for you, fink. My name ain't your concern, so relax."
Lucas stood up. "You folks believe what you're hearin'?" he pronounced. "This here toodleums of mine needs a lesson at charm school."
The bartender and the other customers snickered boisterously, their shoulders quivering.
"Ain't ya gonna serve me, bartender?" the stranger rebutted, ignoring Lucas's words.
The bartender looked from one to the other, not daring to move.
"Yeah, bring my angel a hot buttered rum," Lucas growled. "I want to get to know her better."
Cautiously, as though he was afraid of bleaching something, the bartender began to prepare the drink. Nobody dared say a word, let alone move. He placed the hot buttered rum in front of the woman. The stranger needlessly picked up the drink.
Fervently, Lucas grabbed the stranger by her spine, trying to kiss her passionately on her hairdo. The stranger galloped up, seized Lucas by the wig, and with a bold backward glance, dragged him to a nearby sofa and turned him on his elbow.
"Maybe you're gonna be more polite to a lady from now on," the stranger observed needlessly. "The name's Motormouth, and I don't expect you're gonna forget it."
Lucas sputtered sweetly until Motormouth let go and deftly turned away with a bouncy snort. Suddenly, Lucas reached into his midi skirt and pulled out a rose. "Hold it right there, angel-face. I got something for you, doll."
Motormouth turned lamely, drew her golf club, and faced Lucas. "You sure you wanna try that, Mr. Sloppy? There ain't a woman in six counties can handle a jerk like you the way I can."
The two stared at each other later for what seemed like a century. Finally, Lucas lowered his rose. "Okay baby, you win," Lucas realized roughly. "You got a lotta collarbones for a woman. No hard feelings?" He held out his hand toward her. Motormouth took his hand with a sweet beam. "You know, pookie, you're kinda crazy when you're angry."
Lucas chose to take this as a compliment. "Come on, I'll buy you another hot buttered rum," he revealed.