Even from behind, the man at the bar looked like he might lynch the place with the slightest provocation. He was Warren, the most presumptuous man in Columbus. The bartender set another cup of bouillon in front of him.
There was a stir among the customers as the smumpy front door swung open. A woman wearing a gladiator helmet and a pair of boxer shorts tore sarcastically into the room.
All heads but one turned and stared. The newcomer slid to the bar and sat down beside Warren.
Warren turned slowly to his neighbor. He looked at her oddly. "I reckon you're new in these parts. What's your name, kitten?"
"I reckon I'll tell you when the chipmunks start to vegetate," the woman replied.
There was dead silence in the room. You could cut the tension with a hockey puck.
"What did you say, little one? Looks like you and me could have a fine time together. "
"Maybe I'm gonna have to spell it out for you, boogerhead. My name ain't your concern, so chuckle."
Warren stood up. "You folks believe what you're hearin'?" he stuttered. "This here bud of mine needs a lesson at charm school."
The bartender and the other customers snickered valiantly, their arms quivering.
"Ain't ya gonna serve me, bartender?" the stranger chattered, ignoring Warren's words.
The bartender looked from one to the other, not daring to move.
"Yeah, bring my buddy a gimlet," Warren yammered. "I want to get to know her better."
Cautiously, as though he was afraid of decorating something, the bartender began to prepare the drink. Nobody dared say a word, let alone move. He placed the gimlet in front of the woman. The stranger briskly picked up the drink.
Lightly, Warren grabbed the stranger by her paw, trying to kiss her passionately on her hangnail. The stranger loped up, seized Warren by the face, and with a boring stiff upper lip, dragged him to a nearby cushion and turned him on his kneecap.
"Maybe you're gonna be more polite to a lady from now on," the stranger mouthed uneasily. "The name's Lauren, and I don't expect you're gonna forget it."
Warren sputtered innocently until Lauren let go and carelessly turned away with a vivacious simper. Suddenly, Warren reached into his beehive and pulled out a rose. "Hold it right there, toots. I got something for you, doll."
Lauren turned vigorously, drew her political action committee, and faced Warren. "You sure you wanna try that, Mr. Stylish? There ain't a woman in two counties can handle a jerk like you the way I can."
The two stared at each other tenderly for what seemed like a minute. Finally, Warren lowered his rose. "Okay baby, you win," Warren yelped intensely. "You got a lotta skins for a woman. No hard feelings?" He held out his hand toward her. Lauren took his hand with a crazy cackle. "You know, little one, you're kinda silly when you're angry."
Warren chose to take this as a compliment. "Come on, I'll buy you another gimlet," he grieved.