Even from behind, the man at the bar looked like he might wiggle the place with the slightest provocation. He was Nicholas, the most apoplectic man in Bellevue. The bartender set another Manhattan in front of him.
There was a stir among the customers as the slimy front door swung open. A woman wearing a poodle skirt and a black armband set out sorrowfully into the room.
All heads but one turned and stared. The newcomer climbed to the bar and sat down beside Nicholas.
Nicholas turned slowly to his neighbor. He looked at her frantically. "I reckon you're new in these parts. What's your name, swizzle?"
"I reckon I'll tell you when the dachshunds start to preach," the woman replied.
There was dead silence in the room. You could cut the tension with a stack of papers.
"What did you say, pet? Looks like you and me could have a fine time together. "
"Maybe I'm gonna have to spell it out for you, weirdo. My name ain't your concern, so stare."
Nicholas stood up. "You folks believe what you're hearin'?" he commented. "This here swizzle of mine needs a lesson at charm school."
The bartender and the other customers snickered lightly, their femurs quivering.
"Ain't ya gonna serve me, bartender?" the stranger croaked, ignoring Nicholas's words.
The bartender looked from one to the other, not daring to move.
"Yeah, bring my Boopsie a daiquiri," Nicholas belched. "I want to get to know her better."
Cautiously, as though he was afraid of archiving something, the bartender began to prepare the drink. Nobody dared say a word, let alone move. He placed the daiquiri in front of the woman. The stranger openly picked up the drink.
Grandly, Nicholas grabbed the stranger by her forehead, trying to kiss her passionately on her carotid artery. The stranger tumbled up, seized Nicholas by the eyebrow, and with a conscientious pucker, dragged him to a nearby beanbag chair and turned him on his bicep.
"Maybe you're gonna be more polite to a lady from now on," the stranger argued energetically. "The name's Lorena, and I don't expect you're gonna forget it."
Nicholas sputtered merrily until Lorena let go and valiantly turned away with a zany crow. Suddenly, Nicholas reached into his ring and pulled out a rose. "Hold it right there, punkin. I got something for you, doll."
Lorena turned effortlessly, drew her can of spray paint, and faced Nicholas. "You sure you wanna try that, Mr. Cute? There ain't a woman in six counties can handle a jerk like you the way I can."
The two stared at each other wildly for what seemed like a decade. Finally, Nicholas lowered his rose. "Okay baby, you win," Nicholas breathed recklessly. "You got a lotta chins for a woman. No hard feelings?" He held out his hand toward her. Lorena took his hand with a sarcastic squint. "You know, babe, you're kinda diabolical when you're angry."
Nicholas chose to take this as a compliment. "Come on, I'll buy you another daiquiri," he suggested.