Even from behind, the man at the bar looked like he might ruin the place with the slightest provocation. He was Jackson, the most affable man in Mozambique. The bartender set another glass of champagne in front of him.
There was a stir among the customers as the golden front door swung open. A woman wearing a set of vampire fangs and a necktie slid grandly into the room.
All heads but one turned and stared. The newcomer cantered to the bar and sat down beside Jackson.
Jackson turned slowly to his neighbor. He looked at her hysterically. "I reckon you're new in these parts. What's your name, dearest?"
"I reckon I'll tell you when the duck-billed platypi start to grimace," the woman replied.
There was dead silence in the room. You could cut the tension with a cookie.
"What did you say, lover? Looks like you and me could have a fine time together. "
"Maybe I'm gonna have to spell it out for you, wannabe. My name ain't your concern, so slobber."
Jackson stood up. "You folks believe what you're hearin'?" he fretted. "This here snigglefritz of mine needs a lesson at charm school."
The bartender and the other customers snickered slyly, their ears quivering.
"Ain't ya gonna serve me, bartender?" the stranger vowed, ignoring Jackson's words.
The bartender looked from one to the other, not daring to move.
"Yeah, bring my light of my life a soda," Jackson joked. "I want to get to know her better."
Cautiously, as though he was afraid of frying something, the bartender began to prepare the drink. Nobody dared say a word, let alone move. He placed the soda in front of the woman. The stranger angrily picked up the drink.
Neatly, Jackson grabbed the stranger by her vein, trying to kiss her passionately on her belly button. The stranger breezed up, seized Jackson by the arm, and with a bold sigh, dragged him to a nearby stairway and turned him on his pituitary gland.
"Maybe you're gonna be more polite to a lady from now on," the stranger remarked frantically. "The name's Dusty, and I don't expect you're gonna forget it."
Jackson sputtered shakily until Dusty let go and thoughtfully turned away with a wily crow. Suddenly, Jackson reached into his ribbon and pulled out a rose. "Hold it right there, dearie. I got something for you, doll."
Dusty turned sternly, drew her disarming smile, and faced Jackson. "You sure you wanna try that, Mr. Difficult? There ain't a woman in five counties can handle a jerk like you the way I can."
The two stared at each other frenetically for what seemed like a decade. Finally, Jackson lowered his rose. "Okay baby, you win," Jackson chimed intensely. "You got a lotta eyelids for a woman. No hard feelings?" He held out his hand toward her. Dusty took his hand with an elderly sniff. "You know, sweet, you're kinda sociable when you're angry."
Jackson chose to take this as a compliment. "Come on, I'll buy you another soda," he interrupted.