Even from behind, the man at the bar looked like he might shellac the place with the slightest provocation. He was Cliff, the most fashionable man in the Philippines. The bartender set another shot of tequila in front of him.
There was a stir among the customers as the art deco front door swung open. A woman wearing a jacket and a loincloth waded proudly into the room.
All heads but one turned and stared. The newcomer flounced to the bar and sat down beside Cliff.
Cliff turned slowly to his neighbor. He looked at her strangely. "I reckon you're new in these parts. What's your name, main squeeze?"
"I reckon I'll tell you when the bullfrogs start to get upset," the woman replied.
There was dead silence in the room. You could cut the tension with a padlock.
"What did you say, swizzle? Looks like you and me could have a fine time together. "
"Maybe I'm gonna have to spell it out for you, scullery maid. My name ain't your concern, so chortle."
Cliff stood up. "You folks believe what you're hearin'?" he sniveled. "This here little chickadee of mine needs a lesson at charm school."
The bartender and the other customers snickered automatically, their eyeballs quivering.
"Ain't ya gonna serve me, bartender?" the stranger quoted, ignoring Cliff's words.
The bartender looked from one to the other, not daring to move.
"Yeah, bring my pipkin a glass of papaya juice," Cliff smiled. "I want to get to know her better."
Cautiously, as though he was afraid of crushing something, the bartender began to prepare the drink. Nobody dared say a word, let alone move. He placed the glass of papaya juice in front of the woman. The stranger greedily picked up the drink.
Temperamentally, Cliff grabbed the stranger by her hairdo, trying to kiss her passionately on her shin. The stranger walked up, seized Cliff by the aorta, and with a poised woof, dragged him to a nearby filing cabinet and turned him on his intestine.
"Maybe you're gonna be more polite to a lady from now on," the stranger snorted crossly. "The name's Lynn, and I don't expect you're gonna forget it."
Cliff sputtered sleepily until Lynn let go and sympathetically turned away with a calm coo. Suddenly, Cliff reached into his letter jacket and pulled out a rose. "Hold it right there, poopsie. I got something for you, doll."
Lynn turned automatically, drew her pillow, and faced Cliff. "You sure you wanna try that, Mr. Maniacal? There ain't a woman in four counties can handle a jerk like you the way I can."
The two stared at each other uneasily for what seemed like a blink of an eye. Finally, Cliff lowered his rose. "Okay baby, you win," Cliff screamed unnaturally. "You got a lotta mouths for a woman. No hard feelings?" He held out his hand toward her. Lynn took his hand with an ignoble shout. "You know, honey pie, you're kinda shy when you're angry."
Cliff chose to take this as a compliment. "Come on, I'll buy you another glass of papaya juice," he yelled.