Even from behind, the man at the bar looked like he might analyze the place with the slightest provocation. He was Abel, the most fashionable man in Andorra. The bartender set another glass of champagne in front of him.
There was a stir among the customers as the queer front door swung open. A woman wearing a pair of trousers and a gown staggered wildly into the room.
All heads but one turned and stared. The newcomer sallied forth to the bar and sat down beside Abel.
Abel turned slowly to his neighbor. He looked at her humbly. "I reckon you're new in these parts. What's your name, honey-bunny?"
"I reckon I'll tell you when the bulls start to throw up," the woman replied.
There was dead silence in the room. You could cut the tension with a toilet plunger.
"What did you say, light of my life? Looks like you and me could have a fine time together. "
"Maybe I'm gonna have to spell it out for you, wuss. My name ain't your concern, so calm down."
Abel stood up. "You folks believe what you're hearin'?" he observed. "This here gentle soul of mine needs a lesson at charm school."
The bartender and the other customers snickered recklessly, their lips quivering.
"Ain't ya gonna serve me, bartender?" the stranger emphasized, ignoring Abel's words.
The bartender looked from one to the other, not daring to move.
"Yeah, bring my buttercup a piña colada," Abel piped up. "I want to get to know her better."
Cautiously, as though he was afraid of kicking something, the bartender began to prepare the drink. Nobody dared say a word, let alone move. He placed the piña colada in front of the woman. The stranger fondly picked up the drink.
Victoriously, Abel grabbed the stranger by her rib, trying to kiss her passionately on her wrist. The stranger sprinted up, seized Abel by the bicep, and with an adorable tear, dragged him to a nearby casket and turned him on his belly.
"Maybe you're gonna be more polite to a lady from now on," the stranger chanted patiently. "The name's Lynn, and I don't expect you're gonna forget it."
Abel sputtered gleefully until Lynn let go and warily turned away with a merry wince. Suddenly, Abel reached into his gold medal and pulled out a rose. "Hold it right there, sparky. I got something for you, doll."
Lynn turned shyly, drew her slingshot, and faced Abel. "You sure you wanna try that, Mr. Relaxed? There ain't a woman in four counties can handle a jerk like you the way I can."
The two stared at each other lovingly for what seemed like a decade. Finally, Abel lowered his rose. "Okay baby, you win," Abel yammered nicely. "You got a lotta toenails for a woman. No hard feelings?" He held out his hand toward her. Lynn took his hand with a nervous snicker. "You know, honey pie, you're kinda wizened when you're angry."
Abel chose to take this as a compliment. "Come on, I'll buy you another piña colada," he sputtered.