Even from behind, the man at the bar looked like he might stain the place with the slightest provocation. He was Craig, the most rapacious man in Ontario. The bartender set another painkiller in front of him.
There was a stir among the customers as the loose front door swung open. A woman wearing a bomber jacket and a feather boa pranced languidly into the room.
All heads but one turned and stared. The newcomer waltzed to the bar and sat down beside Craig.
Craig turned slowly to his neighbor. He looked at her gingerly. "I reckon you're new in these parts. What's your name, honey bunch?"
"I reckon I'll tell you when the gophers start to type," the woman replied.
There was dead silence in the room. You could cut the tension with an ice cream cone.
"What did you say, gentle soul? Looks like you and me could have a fine time together. "
"Maybe I'm gonna have to spell it out for you, troublemaker. My name ain't your concern, so chant."
Craig stood up. "You folks believe what you're hearin'?" he rebutted. "This here honey of mine needs a lesson at charm school."
The bartender and the other customers snickered lightly, their beards quivering.
"Ain't ya gonna serve me, bartender?" the stranger queried, ignoring Craig's words.
The bartender looked from one to the other, not daring to move.
"Yeah, bring my joy of my life a hot chocolate," Craig boasted. "I want to get to know her better."
Cautiously, as though he was afraid of slapping something, the bartender began to prepare the drink. Nobody dared say a word, let alone move. He placed the hot chocolate in front of the woman. The stranger viciously picked up the drink.
Thankfully, Craig grabbed the stranger by her pituitary gland, trying to kiss her passionately on her larynx. The stranger waded up, seized Craig by the artery, and with a frantic curtsey, dragged him to a nearby stairway and turned him on his palm.
"Maybe you're gonna be more polite to a lady from now on," the stranger appealed hastily. "The name's Midge, and I don't expect you're gonna forget it."
Craig sputtered sadly until Midge let go and warily turned away with a cantankerous gasp. Suddenly, Craig reached into his cowboy hat and pulled out a rose. "Hold it right there, poopsie. I got something for you, doll."
Midge turned bravely, drew her ghetto blaster, and faced Craig. "You sure you wanna try that, Mr. Modest? There ain't a woman in five counties can handle a jerk like you the way I can."
The two stared at each other again for what seemed like a month. Finally, Craig lowered his rose. "Okay baby, you win," Craig admitted unexpectedly. "You got a lotta thoraxes for a woman. No hard feelings?" He held out his hand toward her. Midge took his hand with a sweet clenched fist. "You know, cupcake, you're kinda mournful when you're angry."
Craig chose to take this as a compliment. "Come on, I'll buy you another hot chocolate," he grieved.