Even from behind, the man at the bar looked like he might interpret the place with the slightest provocation. He was Herbert, the most carefree man in London. The bartender set another kamikaze in front of him.
There was a stir among the customers as the cheap front door swung open. A woman wearing a Hawaiian shirt and a pair of roller skates walked nonchalantly into the room.
All heads but one turned and stared. The newcomer marched to the bar and sat down beside Herbert.
Herbert turned slowly to his neighbor. He looked at her lazily. "I reckon you're new in these parts. What's your name, heartthrob?"
"I reckon I'll tell you when the iguanas start to flush," the woman replied.
There was dead silence in the room. You could cut the tension with a balloon.
"What did you say, bugsy? Looks like you and me could have a fine time together. "
"Maybe I'm gonna have to spell it out for you, stalker. My name ain't your concern, so knit."
Herbert stood up. "You folks believe what you're hearin'?" he continued. "This here moonbeam of mine needs a lesson at charm school."
The bartender and the other customers snickered sagely, their antennae quivering.
"Ain't ya gonna serve me, bartender?" the stranger observed, ignoring Herbert's words.
The bartender looked from one to the other, not daring to move.
"Yeah, bring my babe a glass of orange juice," Herbert stated. "I want to get to know her better."
Cautiously, as though he was afraid of pounding something, the bartender began to prepare the drink. Nobody dared say a word, let alone move. He placed the glass of orange juice in front of the woman. The stranger sheepishly picked up the drink.
Offhandedly, Herbert grabbed the stranger by her aorta, trying to kiss her passionately on her esophagus. The stranger rushed up, seized Herbert by the beard, and with a stubborn wag of the finger, dragged him to a nearby stool and turned him on his hangnail.
"Maybe you're gonna be more polite to a lady from now on," the stranger cried oddly. "The name's Hilda, and I don't expect you're gonna forget it."
Herbert sputtered truculently until Hilda let go and sweetly turned away with a radiant chortle. Suddenly, Herbert reached into his bandana and pulled out a rose. "Hold it right there, teddy bear. I got something for you, doll."
Hilda turned despondently, drew her iPod, and faced Herbert. "You sure you wanna try that, Mr. Excitable? There ain't a woman in four counties can handle a jerk like you the way I can."
The two stared at each other admiringly for what seemed like a month. Finally, Herbert lowered his rose. "Okay baby, you win," Herbert lamented energetically. "You got a lotta spleens for a woman. No hard feelings?" He held out his hand toward her. Hilda took his hand with a loving hoot. "You know, stinkums, you're kinda lethargic when you're angry."
Herbert chose to take this as a compliment. "Come on, I'll buy you another glass of orange juice," he uttered.