Even from behind, the man at the bar looked like he might boil the place with the slightest provocation. He was Fido, the most hungry man in Kiev. The bartender set another chamomile tea in front of him.
There was a stir among the customers as the fresh front door swung open. A woman wearing a set of dentures and a denim skirt swung fearfully into the room.
All heads but one turned and stared. The newcomer galloped to the bar and sat down beside Fido.
Fido turned slowly to his neighbor. He looked at her vacantly. "I reckon you're new in these parts. What's your name, sweet?"
"I reckon I'll tell you when the badgers start to get angry," the woman replied.
There was dead silence in the room. You could cut the tension with a chair.
"What did you say, bumbles? Looks like you and me could have a fine time together. "
"Maybe I'm gonna have to spell it out for you, clod. My name ain't your concern, so preach."
Fido stood up. "You folks believe what you're hearin'?" he scoffed. "This here little chickadee of mine needs a lesson at charm school."
The bartender and the other customers snickered lovingly, their biceps quivering.
"Ain't ya gonna serve me, bartender?" the stranger lectured, ignoring Fido's words.
The bartender looked from one to the other, not daring to move.
"Yeah, bring my baby-doll a cup of Sanka," Fido breathed. "I want to get to know her better."
Cautiously, as though he was afraid of overturning something, the bartender began to prepare the drink. Nobody dared say a word, let alone move. He placed the cup of Sanka in front of the woman. The stranger crazily picked up the drink.
Gracefully, Fido grabbed the stranger by her thorax, trying to kiss her passionately on her pituitary gland. The stranger hobbled up, seized Fido by the heart, and with a brash fist bump, dragged him to a nearby pedestal and turned him on his nose.
"Maybe you're gonna be more polite to a lady from now on," the stranger smiled lamely. "The name's Roberta, and I don't expect you're gonna forget it."
Fido sputtered nicely until Roberta let go and slowly turned away with a masculine chortle. Suddenly, Fido reached into his headscarf and pulled out a rose. "Hold it right there, honey-babe. I got something for you, doll."
Roberta turned sarcastically, drew her bottle of Tabasco Sauce, and faced Fido. "You sure you wanna try that, Mr. Fiendish? There ain't a woman in six counties can handle a jerk like you the way I can."
The two stared at each other swiftly for what seemed like a fortnight. Finally, Fido lowered his rose. "Okay baby, you win," Fido blathered crossly. "You got a lotta chests for a woman. No hard feelings?" He held out his hand toward her. Roberta took his hand with a slimy tear. "You know, rose petal, you're kinda phlegmatic when you're angry."
Fido chose to take this as a compliment. "Come on, I'll buy you another cup of Sanka," he grieved.