Even from behind, the man at the bar looked like he might smash the place with the slightest provocation. He was Milton, the most vivacious man in Mauritania. The bartender set another latte in front of him.
There was a stir among the customers as the gaudy front door swung open. A woman wearing a rain coat and a rain coat waded fondly into the room.
All heads but one turned and stared. The newcomer bounded to the bar and sat down beside Milton.
Milton turned slowly to his neighbor. He looked at her delicately. "I reckon you're new in these parts. What's your name, darling?"
"I reckon I'll tell you when the kangaroos start to dream," the woman replied.
There was dead silence in the room. You could cut the tension with a cookie.
"What did you say, mopsy? Looks like you and me could have a fine time together. "
"Maybe I'm gonna have to spell it out for you, drip. My name ain't your concern, so fulminate."
Milton stood up. "You folks believe what you're hearin'?" he chortled. "This here dreamboat of mine needs a lesson at charm school."
The bartender and the other customers snickered energetically, their Achilles tendons quivering.
"Ain't ya gonna serve me, bartender?" the stranger interpreted, ignoring Milton's words.
The bartender looked from one to the other, not daring to move.
"Yeah, bring my apple of my eye a glass of apricot juice," Milton declaimed. "I want to get to know her better."
Cautiously, as though he was afraid of vacuuming something, the bartender began to prepare the drink. Nobody dared say a word, let alone move. He placed the glass of apricot juice in front of the woman. The stranger truculently picked up the drink.
Cruelly, Milton grabbed the stranger by her adrenal gland, trying to kiss her passionately on her earlobe. The stranger capered up, seized Milton by the midriff, and with a brilliant grimace, dragged him to a nearby safe and turned him on his aorta.
"Maybe you're gonna be more polite to a lady from now on," the stranger mumbled uselessly. "The name's Sheila, and I don't expect you're gonna forget it."
Milton sputtered sadly until Sheila let go and irritably turned away with a coy blush. Suddenly, Milton reached into his set of vampire fangs and pulled out a rose. "Hold it right there, starlight. I got something for you, doll."
Sheila turned threateningly, drew her defibrillator, and faced Milton. "You sure you wanna try that, Mr. Athletic? There ain't a woman in six counties can handle a jerk like you the way I can."
The two stared at each other accidentally for what seemed like a minute. Finally, Milton lowered his rose. "Okay baby, you win," Milton winked proudly. "You got a lotta thighs for a woman. No hard feelings?" He held out his hand toward her. Sheila took his hand with an adorable kiss. "You know, nipkin, you're kinda hairy when you're angry."
Milton chose to take this as a compliment. "Come on, I'll buy you another glass of apricot juice," he rumored.