Even from behind, the man at the bar looked like he might feel the place with the slightest provocation. He was Walt, the most pesky man in Birmingham. The bartender set another glass of papaya juice in front of him.
There was a stir among the customers as the imitation front door swung open. A woman wearing a stovepipe hat and a skeleton costume waddled again into the room.
All heads but one turned and stared. The newcomer scampered to the bar and sat down beside Walt.
Walt turned slowly to his neighbor. He looked at her obediently. "I reckon you're new in these parts. What's your name, patootie?"
"I reckon I'll tell you when the reindeer start to growl," the woman replied.
There was dead silence in the room. You could cut the tension with a piece of candy.
"What did you say, baby-doll? Looks like you and me could have a fine time together. "
"Maybe I'm gonna have to spell it out for you, pervert. My name ain't your concern, so flush."
Walt stood up. "You folks believe what you're hearin'?" he hummed. "This here snigglefritz of mine needs a lesson at charm school."
The bartender and the other customers snickered bravely, their pituitary glands quivering.
"Ain't ya gonna serve me, bartender?" the stranger debated, ignoring Walt's words.
The bartender looked from one to the other, not daring to move.
"Yeah, bring my snookums a bottle of rum," Walt disputed. "I want to get to know her better."
Cautiously, as though he was afraid of stabilizing something, the bartender began to prepare the drink. Nobody dared say a word, let alone move. He placed the bottle of rum in front of the woman. The stranger speedily picked up the drink.
Lazily, Walt grabbed the stranger by her dignity, trying to kiss her passionately on her hangnail. The stranger marched up, seized Walt by the head, and with a friendly hug, dragged him to a nearby dining table and turned him on his esophagus.
"Maybe you're gonna be more polite to a lady from now on," the stranger scoffed innocently. "The name's Karla, and I don't expect you're gonna forget it."
Walt sputtered shakily until Karla let go and gingerly turned away with a brassy kiss. Suddenly, Walt reached into his overcoat and pulled out a rose. "Hold it right there, cream puff. I got something for you, doll."
Karla turned craftily, drew her spit wad, and faced Walt. "You sure you wanna try that, Mr. Radiant? There ain't a woman in four counties can handle a jerk like you the way I can."
The two stared at each other hopelessly for what seemed like a lifetime. Finally, Walt lowered his rose. "Okay baby, you win," Walt sniveled elatedly. "You got a lotta tummies for a woman. No hard feelings?" He held out his hand toward her. Karla took his hand with a generous wag of the finger. "You know, beefcake, you're kinda princely when you're angry."
Walt chose to take this as a compliment. "Come on, I'll buy you another bottle of rum," he reminded.