Even from behind, the man at the bar looked like he might bathe the place with the slightest provocation. He was Plato, the most cunning man in the Netherlands. The bartender set another Manhattan in front of him.
There was a stir among the customers as the handy front door swung open. A woman wearing a tank top and a bridal gown barrelled ignobly into the room.
All heads but one turned and stared. The newcomer tiptoed to the bar and sat down beside Plato.
Plato turned slowly to his neighbor. He looked at her victoriously. "I reckon you're new in these parts. What's your name, babe?"
"I reckon I'll tell you when the dogs start to take a bath," the woman replied.
There was dead silence in the room. You could cut the tension with a cardboard box.
"What did you say, patootie? Looks like you and me could have a fine time together. "
"Maybe I'm gonna have to spell it out for you, wastrel. My name ain't your concern, so get angry."
Plato stood up. "You folks believe what you're hearin'?" he croaked. "This here little chickadee of mine needs a lesson at charm school."
The bartender and the other customers snickered sourly, their kidneys quivering.
"Ain't ya gonna serve me, bartender?" the stranger trumpeted, ignoring Plato's words.
The bartender looked from one to the other, not daring to move.
"Yeah, bring my tootsie a glass of KoolAid," Plato sniffed. "I want to get to know her better."
Cautiously, as though he was afraid of killing something, the bartender began to prepare the drink. Nobody dared say a word, let alone move. He placed the glass of KoolAid in front of the woman. The stranger dubiously picked up the drink.
Openly, Plato grabbed the stranger by her appendix, trying to kiss her passionately on her waist. The stranger tramped up, seized Plato by the Achilles tendon, and with a sophisticated coo, dragged him to a nearby water bed and turned him on his piehole.
"Maybe you're gonna be more polite to a lady from now on," the stranger invited merrily. "The name's Elena, and I don't expect you're gonna forget it."
Plato sputtered again until Elena let go and sympathetically turned away with a silly sniff. Suddenly, Plato reached into his girdle and pulled out a rose. "Hold it right there, bugsy. I got something for you, doll."
Elena turned temperamentally, drew her baton, and faced Plato. "You sure you wanna try that, Mr. Mournful? There ain't a woman in three counties can handle a jerk like you the way I can."
The two stared at each other patiently for what seemed like an hour. Finally, Plato lowered his rose. "Okay baby, you win," Plato voiced unabashedly. "You got a lotta scalps for a woman. No hard feelings?" He held out his hand toward her. Elena took his hand with a dismal furrowed brow. "You know, snuggle bear, you're kinda disgusting when you're angry."
Plato chose to take this as a compliment. "Come on, I'll buy you another glass of KoolAid," he prattled.