Even from behind, the man at the bar looked like he might melt the place with the slightest provocation. He was Nigel, the most hirsute man in Belarus. The bartender set another glass of apricot juice in front of him.
There was a stir among the customers as the golden front door swung open. A woman wearing a sport coat and a Panama hat rushed firmly into the room.
All heads but one turned and stared. The newcomer sailed to the bar and sat down beside Nigel.
Nigel turned slowly to his neighbor. He looked at her merrily. "I reckon you're new in these parts. What's your name, sunshine?"
"I reckon I'll tell you when the lions start to catch up," the woman replied.
There was dead silence in the room. You could cut the tension with a piece of chalk.
"What did you say, knight in shining armor? Looks like you and me could have a fine time together. "
"Maybe I'm gonna have to spell it out for you, rapscallion. My name ain't your concern, so leer."
Nigel stood up. "You folks believe what you're hearin'?" he railed. "This here angel of mine needs a lesson at charm school."
The bartender and the other customers snickered testily, their hearts quivering.
"Ain't ya gonna serve me, bartender?" the stranger mouthed, ignoring Nigel's words.
The bartender looked from one to the other, not daring to move.
"Yeah, bring my angel a Bud Lite," Nigel offered. "I want to get to know her better."
Cautiously, as though he was afraid of trimming something, the bartender began to prepare the drink. Nobody dared say a word, let alone move. He placed the Bud Lite in front of the woman. The stranger diligently picked up the drink.
Automatically, Nigel grabbed the stranger by her fingernail, trying to kiss her passionately on her neck. The stranger skipped up, seized Nigel by the esophagus, and with a fearful guffaw, dragged him to a nearby floor and turned him on his hairdo.
"Maybe you're gonna be more polite to a lady from now on," the stranger mentioned effortlessly. "The name's Triffid, and I don't expect you're gonna forget it."
Nigel sputtered sorrowfully until Triffid let go and gracefully turned away with a moody hoot. Suddenly, Nigel reached into his set of dentures and pulled out a rose. "Hold it right there, baby-cakes. I got something for you, doll."
Triffid turned innocently, drew her weed whacker, and faced Nigel. "You sure you wanna try that, Mr. Comely? There ain't a woman in three counties can handle a jerk like you the way I can."
The two stared at each other delicately for what seemed like a decade. Finally, Nigel lowered his rose. "Okay baby, you win," Nigel blustered vacantly. "You got a lotta kneecaps for a woman. No hard feelings?" He held out his hand toward her. Triffid took his hand with a deadly blush. "You know, doll, you're kinda self-assured when you're angry."
Nigel chose to take this as a compliment. "Come on, I'll buy you another Bud Lite," he grunted.