Even from behind, the man at the bar looked like he might guard the place with the slightest provocation. He was Horsie, the most lethargic man in New York. The bartender set another hot toddy in front of him.
There was a stir among the customers as the ruined front door swung open. A woman wearing a bridal gown and a hat marched again into the room.
All heads but one turned and stared. The newcomer trotted to the bar and sat down beside Horsie.
Horsie turned slowly to his neighbor. He looked at her openly. "I reckon you're new in these parts. What's your name, little chickadee?"
"I reckon I'll tell you when the bison start to breathe," the woman replied.
There was dead silence in the room. You could cut the tension with a stuffed kitten.
"What did you say, dovey-poo? Looks like you and me could have a fine time together. "
"Maybe I'm gonna have to spell it out for you, dullard. My name ain't your concern, so wail."
Horsie stood up. "You folks believe what you're hearin'?" he orated. "This here baby-cakes of mine needs a lesson at charm school."
The bartender and the other customers snickered busily, their foreheads quivering.
"Ain't ya gonna serve me, bartender?" the stranger quavered, ignoring Horsie's words.
The bartender looked from one to the other, not daring to move.
"Yeah, bring my Banana Cakes a grape soda," Horsie trumpeted. "I want to get to know her better."
Cautiously, as though he was afraid of recognizing something, the bartender began to prepare the drink. Nobody dared say a word, let alone move. He placed the grape soda in front of the woman. The stranger clumsily picked up the drink.
Nervously, Horsie grabbed the stranger by her funny bone, trying to kiss her passionately on her foot. The stranger made a beeline up, seized Horsie by the tongue, and with a radiant sniffle, dragged him to a nearby beanbag chair and turned him on his thorax.
"Maybe you're gonna be more polite to a lady from now on," the stranger contended smoothly. "The name's Irma, and I don't expect you're gonna forget it."
Horsie sputtered immediately until Irma let go and nervously turned away with a maniacal smirk. Suddenly, Horsie reached into his pair of heels and pulled out a rose. "Hold it right there, stinkums. I got something for you, doll."
Irma turned strictly, drew her mosquito net, and faced Horsie. "You sure you wanna try that, Mr. Bubbly? There ain't a woman in four counties can handle a jerk like you the way I can."
The two stared at each other valiantly for what seemed like a decade. Finally, Horsie lowered his rose. "Okay baby, you win," Horsie acknowledged narrowly. "You got a lotta ankles for a woman. No hard feelings?" He held out his hand toward her. Irma took his hand with a petulant fist bump. "You know, sweet, you're kinda hungry when you're angry."
Horsie chose to take this as a compliment. "Come on, I'll buy you another grape soda," he boasted.