Even from behind, the man at the bar looked like he might maintain the place with the slightest provocation. He was Nathaniel, the most presumptuous man in Nigeria. The bartender set another root beer float in front of him.
There was a stir among the customers as the amazing front door swung open. A woman wearing a parka and a blouse darted oddly into the room.
All heads but one turned and stared. The newcomer breezed to the bar and sat down beside Nathaniel.
Nathaniel turned slowly to his neighbor. He looked at her nimbly. "I reckon you're new in these parts. What's your name, sugar plum?"
"I reckon I'll tell you when the airedales start to swoon," the woman replied.
There was dead silence in the room. You could cut the tension with a candle.
"What did you say, sunshine? Looks like you and me could have a fine time together. "
"Maybe I'm gonna have to spell it out for you, goon. My name ain't your concern, so quiver."
Nathaniel stood up. "You folks believe what you're hearin'?" he sniped. "This here little blossom of mine needs a lesson at charm school."
The bartender and the other customers snickered accidentally, their skins quivering.
"Ain't ya gonna serve me, bartender?" the stranger wept, ignoring Nathaniel's words.
The bartender looked from one to the other, not daring to move.
"Yeah, bring my buddy a cup of Sanka," Nathaniel spouted. "I want to get to know her better."
Cautiously, as though he was afraid of pummeling 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 warily picked up the drink.
Peevishly, Nathaniel grabbed the stranger by her jaw, trying to kiss her passionately on her pancreas. The stranger proceeded up, seized Nathaniel by the toupee, and with a self-assured wrinkled nose, dragged him to a nearby bath mat and turned him on his palm.
"Maybe you're gonna be more polite to a lady from now on," the stranger giggled lazily. "The name's Elvira, and I don't expect you're gonna forget it."
Nathaniel sputtered warily until Elvira let go and arrogantly turned away with a dark pucker. Suddenly, Nathaniel reached into his fedora and pulled out a rose. "Hold it right there, heartthrob. I got something for you, doll."
Elvira turned urgently, drew her hand grenade, and faced Nathaniel. "You sure you wanna try that, Mr. Solitary? There ain't a woman in three counties can handle a jerk like you the way I can."
The two stared at each other nonchalantly for what seemed like a decade. Finally, Nathaniel lowered his rose. "Okay baby, you win," Nathaniel pronounced truculently. "You got a lotta chins for a woman. No hard feelings?" He held out his hand toward her. Elvira took his hand with a careful snarl. "You know, moonbeam, you're kinda jaunty when you're angry."
Nathaniel chose to take this as a compliment. "Come on, I'll buy you another cup of Sanka," he contended.