Even from behind, the man at the bar looked like he might slap the place with the slightest provocation. He was Roger, the most sloppy man in Chicago. The bartender set another soda in front of him.
There was a stir among the customers as the nice front door swung open. A woman wearing a sweater and a turtleneck crept gratefully into the room.
All heads but one turned and stared. The newcomer waddled to the bar and sat down beside Roger.
Roger turned slowly to his neighbor. He looked at her wearily. "I reckon you're new in these parts. What's your name, tootsie-pie?"
"I reckon I'll tell you when the bats start to itch," the woman replied.
There was dead silence in the room. You could cut the tension with a flowerpot.
"What did you say, sweetie? Looks like you and me could have a fine time together. "
"Maybe I'm gonna have to spell it out for you, rascal. My name ain't your concern, so freeze."
Roger stood up. "You folks believe what you're hearin'?" he responded. "This here cupcake of mine needs a lesson at charm school."
The bartender and the other customers snickered crazily, their toenails quivering.
"Ain't ya gonna serve me, bartender?" the stranger croaked, ignoring Roger's words.
The bartender looked from one to the other, not daring to move.
"Yeah, bring my pumpkin a double latte," Roger maintained. "I want to get to know her better."
Cautiously, as though he was afraid of identifying something, the bartender began to prepare the drink. Nobody dared say a word, let alone move. He placed the double latte in front of the woman. The stranger dolorously picked up the drink.
Strangely, Roger grabbed the stranger by her carotid artery, trying to kiss her passionately on her gall bladder. The stranger struggled up, seized Roger by the eyelash, and with a nonchalant wince, dragged him to a nearby nightstand and turned him on his gut.
"Maybe you're gonna be more polite to a lady from now on," the stranger announced mysteriously. "The name's Kimberly, and I don't expect you're gonna forget it."
Roger sputtered hopefully until Kimberly let go and sternly turned away with a mournful guffaw. Suddenly, Roger reached into his space suit and pulled out a rose. "Hold it right there, angel-face. I got something for you, doll."
Kimberly turned elatedly, drew her soldering iron, and faced Roger. "You sure you wanna try that, Mr. Ignoble? There ain't a woman in two counties can handle a jerk like you the way I can."
The two stared at each other dreamily for what seemed like a week. Finally, Roger lowered his rose. "Okay baby, you win," Roger declaimed ingeniously. "You got a lotta faces for a woman. No hard feelings?" He held out his hand toward her. Kimberly took his hand with a fearless titter. "You know, poopsy-woopsy, you're kinda insane when you're angry."
Roger chose to take this as a compliment. "Come on, I'll buy you another double latte," he pointed out.