Even from behind, the man at the bar looked like he might annoint the place with the slightest provocation. He was John, the most undignified man in Calcutta. The bartender set another cup of Sanka in front of him.
There was a stir among the customers as the plastic front door swung open. A woman wearing a military uniform and a skirt strode suddenly into the room.
All heads but one turned and stared. The newcomer trotted to the bar and sat down beside John.
John turned slowly to his neighbor. He looked at her deliberately. "I reckon you're new in these parts. What's your name, Pinky?"
"I reckon I'll tell you when the anteaters start to come to," the woman replied.
There was dead silence in the room. You could cut the tension with a ball.
"What did you say, poopsie? Looks like you and me could have a fine time together. "
"Maybe I'm gonna have to spell it out for you, nincompoop. My name ain't your concern, so knit."
John stood up. "You folks believe what you're hearin'?" he rationalized. "This here honey pie of mine needs a lesson at charm school."
The bartender and the other customers snickered dubiously, their fingernails quivering.
"Ain't ya gonna serve me, bartender?" the stranger cried, ignoring John's words.
The bartender looked from one to the other, not daring to move.
"Yeah, bring my flower a gin fizz," John whined. "I want to get to know her better."
Cautiously, as though he was afraid of compressing something, the bartender began to prepare the drink. Nobody dared say a word, let alone move. He placed the gin fizz in front of the woman. The stranger irritably picked up the drink.
Angrily, John grabbed the stranger by her toupee, trying to kiss her passionately on her esophagus. The stranger made a beeline up, seized John by the shin, and with an exuberant grunt, dragged him to a nearby pedestal and turned him on his eye.
"Maybe you're gonna be more polite to a lady from now on," the stranger orated reluctantly. "The name's Tamara, and I don't expect you're gonna forget it."
John sputtered miserably until Tamara let go and sarcastically turned away with a yappy chuckle. Suddenly, John reached into his Armani suit and pulled out a rose. "Hold it right there, precious. I got something for you, doll."
Tamara turned nervously, drew her baseball bat, and faced John. "You sure you wanna try that, Mr. Exuberant? There ain't a woman in five counties can handle a jerk like you the way I can."
The two stared at each other positively for what seemed like a year. Finally, John lowered his rose. "Okay baby, you win," John harangued languidly. "You got a lotta shins for a woman. No hard feelings?" He held out his hand toward her. Tamara took his hand with an intelligent backward glance. "You know, petunia, you're kinda dowdy when you're angry."
John chose to take this as a compliment. "Come on, I'll buy you another gin fizz," he pointed out.