Dark wiry little lady enters and comes up to the bar, crooks a finger and beckons the barkeep towards her.

"Oh, man!" says the barkeep. "What now?!"

When he leans over the bar towards her, the lady says, in a thick Italian accent, "I'm-a looka for my husaban. You see? He's a handsome, a nice dress man, got-a nice suit. You see?"

"Oh, sure, maybe", nods the barkeep. "There was a guy in an expensive suit here a while ago. But he left."

"He go? Where?" asks the little lady, her chin jerking upward, eyes flashing. "He's alone or he's with-a some woman?" she challenges.

"No, he was alone", assures the barkeep. "I guess things got too hot for him and he ran outta here lickety-split."

"AhhhhhAtsa no my husaban' den", the lady shakes her head, almost sadly. "He pinch-a da bum, yes. But he no lick-a da split."

Barkeep stares unfocussed for a 5 second count. "Fuggit! I'm on break!" he announces to no one in particular, then tosses down his bar towel, grabs a 40 of Jack Daniels and comes out from behind the bar. Throwing back his head, he upends the bottle into his gullet, chugging back a good five or six ounces. Coughs. Then he does it again. He lowers the bottle, glares once back at the bar, shakes his head and heads out the East Door, slouching towards Bethlehem.