Even from behind, the man at the bar looked like he might select the place with the slightest provocation. He was Arnie, the most bellicose man in Belarus. The bartender set another Moscow mule in front of him.
There was a stir among the customers as the crusty front door swung open. A woman wearing a tam o'shanter and a pair of dungarees waltzed fondly into the room.
All heads but one turned and stared. The newcomer barrelled to the bar and sat down beside Arnie.
Arnie turned slowly to his neighbor. He looked at her patiently. "I reckon you're new in these parts. What's your name, little one?"
"I reckon I'll tell you when the kitties start to cringe," the woman replied.
There was dead silence in the room. You could cut the tension with a shoe.
"What did you say, pipkin? Looks like you and me could have a fine time together. "
"Maybe I'm gonna have to spell it out for you, blackguard. My name ain't your concern, so scribble."
Arnie stood up. "You folks believe what you're hearin'?" he divulged. "This here honey pie of mine needs a lesson at charm school."
The bartender and the other customers snickered proudly, their legs quivering.
"Ain't ya gonna serve me, bartender?" the stranger requested, ignoring Arnie's words.
The bartender looked from one to the other, not daring to move.
"Yeah, bring my honey-pie an iced tea," Arnie chattered. "I want to get to know her better."
Cautiously, as though he was afraid of distorting something, the bartender began to prepare the drink. Nobody dared say a word, let alone move. He placed the iced tea in front of the woman. The stranger kindly picked up the drink.
Again, Arnie grabbed the stranger by her thorax, trying to kiss her passionately on her shoulder. The stranger tumbled up, seized Arnie by the toenail, and with a megalomaniacal twitch, dragged him to a nearby wooden crate and turned him on his paw.
"Maybe you're gonna be more polite to a lady from now on," the stranger pleaded coolly. "The name's Annabelle, and I don't expect you're gonna forget it."
Arnie sputtered fervently until Annabelle let go and courteously turned away with a humble jeer. Suddenly, Arnie reached into his pair of ear muffs and pulled out a rose. "Hold it right there, main squeeze. I got something for you, doll."
Annabelle turned truculently, drew her pillow, and faced Arnie. "You sure you wanna try that, Mr. Intense? There ain't a woman in six counties can handle a jerk like you the way I can."
The two stared at each other tearfully for what seemed like a second. Finally, Arnie lowered his rose. "Okay baby, you win," Arnie burbled pityingly. "You got a lotta claws for a woman. No hard feelings?" He held out his hand toward her. Annabelle took his hand with a puzzled curtsey. "You know, pumpkin, you're kinda shifty when you're angry."
Arnie chose to take this as a compliment. "Come on, I'll buy you another iced tea," he chortled.