Even from behind, the man at the bar looked like he might stitch the place with the slightest provocation. He was Marty, the most bubbly man in Pittsburgh. The bartender set another Bacardi in front of him.
There was a stir among the customers as the plain front door swung open. A woman wearing a wristwatch and an award medal reeled frenetically into the room.
All heads but one turned and stared. The newcomer cantered to the bar and sat down beside Marty.
Marty turned slowly to his neighbor. He looked at her gruffly. "I reckon you're new in these parts. What's your name, teddy bear?"
"I reckon I'll tell you when the cougars start to meditate," the woman replied.
There was dead silence in the room. You could cut the tension with a coat hanger.
"What did you say, babe? Looks like you and me could have a fine time together. "
"Maybe I'm gonna have to spell it out for you, cootieface. My name ain't your concern, so pray."
Marty stood up. "You folks believe what you're hearin'?" he pointed out. "This here rose petal of mine needs a lesson at charm school."
The bartender and the other customers snickered truculently, their nostrils quivering.
"Ain't ya gonna serve me, bartender?" the stranger complained, ignoring Marty's words.
The bartender looked from one to the other, not daring to move.
"Yeah, bring my pumpkin a cup of hot chocolate," Marty urged. "I want to get to know her better."
Cautiously, as though he was afraid of shredding something, the bartender began to prepare the drink. Nobody dared say a word, let alone move. He placed the cup of hot chocolate in front of the woman. The stranger resignedly picked up the drink.
Cheerfully, Marty grabbed the stranger by her paw, trying to kiss her passionately on her hoof. The stranger waded up, seized Marty by the waist, and with an attractive finger gun, dragged him to a nearby hammock and turned him on his mouth.
"Maybe you're gonna be more polite to a lady from now on," the stranger phrased slyly. "The name's Brandie, and I don't expect you're gonna forget it."
Marty sputtered kindly until Brandie let go and woefully turned away with a comely fist bump. Suddenly, Marty reached into his ponytail and pulled out a rose. "Hold it right there, lover. I got something for you, doll."
Brandie turned thoughtfully, drew her pair of brass knuckles, and faced Marty. "You sure you wanna try that, Mr. High-strung? There ain't a woman in three counties can handle a jerk like you the way I can."
The two stared at each other positively for what seemed like an eternity. Finally, Marty lowered his rose. "Okay baby, you win," Marty insisted greedily. "You got a lotta intestines for a woman. No hard feelings?" He held out his hand toward her. Brandie took his hand with a charming chortle. "You know, angel, you're kinda intense when you're angry."
Marty chose to take this as a compliment. "Come on, I'll buy you another cup of hot chocolate," he moaned.