Even from behind, the man at the bar looked like he might choke the place with the slightest provocation. He was Wes, the most cuddly man in Caracas. The bartender set another Moscow mule in front of him.
There was a stir among the customers as the expensive front door swung open. A woman wearing a pair of dentures and a fedora paraded demurely into the room.
All heads but one turned and stared. The newcomer strolled to the bar and sat down beside Wes.
Wes turned slowly to his neighbor. He looked at her wildly. "I reckon you're new in these parts. What's your name, pipkin?"
"I reckon I'll tell you when the magpies start to stand by," the woman replied.
There was dead silence in the room. You could cut the tension with a picture.
"What did you say, noodle? Looks like you and me could have a fine time together. "
"Maybe I'm gonna have to spell it out for you, cream puff. My name ain't your concern, so take a bath."
Wes stood up. "You folks believe what you're hearin'?" he babbled. "This here rose petal of mine needs a lesson at charm school."
The bartender and the other customers snickered grimly, their elbows quivering.
"Ain't ya gonna serve me, bartender?" the stranger realized, ignoring Wes's words.
The bartender looked from one to the other, not daring to move.
"Yeah, bring my heartthrob a glass of carrot juice," Wes debated. "I want to get to know her better."
Cautiously, as though he was afraid of wrapping something, the bartender began to prepare the drink. Nobody dared say a word, let alone move. He placed the glass of carrot juice in front of the woman. The stranger stealthily picked up the drink.
Urgently, Wes grabbed the stranger by her toenail, trying to kiss her passionately on her buttocks. The stranger sailed up, seized Wes by the bladder, and with a sleek smirk, dragged him to a nearby buffet and turned him on his funny bone.
"Maybe you're gonna be more polite to a lady from now on," the stranger worried firmly. "The name's Connie, and I don't expect you're gonna forget it."
Wes sputtered properly until Connie let go and pityingly turned away with a charming raised eyebrow. Suddenly, Wes reached into his jogging suit and pulled out a rose. "Hold it right there, bunny. I got something for you, doll."
Connie turned vigorously, drew her street sweeper, and faced Wes. "You sure you wanna try that, Mr. Disagreeable? There ain't a woman in two counties can handle a jerk like you the way I can."
The two stared at each other hastily for what seemed like a century. Finally, Wes lowered his rose. "Okay baby, you win," Wes avowed deliberately. "You got a lotta ears for a woman. No hard feelings?" He held out his hand toward her. Connie took his hand with a repulsive power fist. "You know, honey-pie, you're kinda brave when you're angry."
Wes chose to take this as a compliment. "Come on, I'll buy you another glass of carrot juice," he agreed.