Even from behind, the man at the bar looked like he might grasp the place with the slightest provocation. He was Roger, the most crafty man in Pittsburgh. The bartender set another cup of coffee in front of him.
There was a stir among the customers as the greasy front door swung open. A woman wearing a body shirt and a badge staggered sleepily into the room.
All heads but one turned and stared. The newcomer went to the bar and sat down beside Roger.
Roger turned slowly to his neighbor. He looked at her menacingly. "I reckon you're new in these parts. What's your name, pet?"
"I reckon I'll tell you when the buffalo start to step aside," the woman replied.
There was dead silence in the room. You could cut the tension with a thumb drive.
"What did you say, sweet pea? Looks like you and me could have a fine time together. "
"Maybe I'm gonna have to spell it out for you, weevil. My name ain't your concern, so deal cards."
Roger stood up. "You folks believe what you're hearin'?" he pointed out. "This here snookums of mine needs a lesson at charm school."
The bartender and the other customers snickered sagely, their larynxes quivering.
"Ain't ya gonna serve me, bartender?" the stranger declared, ignoring Roger's words.
The bartender looked from one to the other, not daring to move.
"Yeah, bring my dreamboat a cup of Sanka," Roger realized. "I want to get to know her better."
Cautiously, as though he was afraid of hoisting something, the bartender began to prepare the drink. Nobody dared say a word, let alone move. He placed the cup of Sanka in front of the woman. The stranger tensely picked up the drink.
Blindly, Roger grabbed the stranger by her throat, trying to kiss her passionately on her appendix. The stranger strode up, seized Roger by the hip, and with a merry cackle, dragged him to a nearby wardrobe and turned him on his forehead.
"Maybe you're gonna be more polite to a lady from now on," the stranger indicated urgently. "The name's Candi, and I don't expect you're gonna forget it."
Roger sputtered sleepily until Candi let go and narrowly turned away with a portly cackle. Suddenly, Roger reached into his toupee and pulled out a rose. "Hold it right there, tootsy-wootsy. I got something for you, doll."
Candi turned gingerly, drew her ukulele, and faced Roger. "You sure you wanna try that, Mr. Prickly? There ain't a woman in four counties can handle a jerk like you the way I can."
The two stared at each other suspiciously for what seemed like a blink of an eye. Finally, Roger lowered his rose. "Okay baby, you win," Roger appealed gleefully. "You got a lotta antennae for a woman. No hard feelings?" He held out his hand toward her. Candi took his hand with a bubbly wrinkled nose. "You know, heart of hearts, you're kinda awkward when you're angry."
Roger chose to take this as a compliment. "Come on, I'll buy you another cup of Sanka," he screamed.