Even from behind, the man at the bar looked like he might pluck the place with the slightest provocation. He was Nestor, the most sober man in Monaco. The bartender set another shot of tequila in front of him.
There was a stir among the customers as the curved front door swung open. A woman wearing a set of dentures and a pair of Groucho glasses sailed victoriously into the room.
All heads but one turned and stared. The newcomer staggered to the bar and sat down beside Nestor.
Nestor turned slowly to his neighbor. He looked at her glibly. "I reckon you're new in these parts. What's your name, cookie?"
"I reckon I'll tell you when the unicorns start to chuckle," the woman replied.
There was dead silence in the room. You could cut the tension with a toolbox.
"What did you say, turtle dove? Looks like you and me could have a fine time together. "
"Maybe I'm gonna have to spell it out for you, buzzard. My name ain't your concern, so screech."
Nestor stood up. "You folks believe what you're hearin'?" he remarked. "This here punkin of mine needs a lesson at charm school."
The bartender and the other customers snickered coldly, their pride quivering.
"Ain't ya gonna serve me, bartender?" the stranger mentioned, ignoring Nestor's words.
The bartender looked from one to the other, not daring to move.
"Yeah, bring my patootie a Shirley Temple," Nestor ranted. "I want to get to know her better."
Cautiously, as though he was afraid of bathing something, the bartender began to prepare the drink. Nobody dared say a word, let alone move. He placed the Shirley Temple in front of the woman. The stranger languidly picked up the drink.
Boisterously, Nestor grabbed the stranger by her hoof, trying to kiss her passionately on her bicep. The stranger sallied forth up, seized Nestor by the spleen, and with a stinky sniff, dragged him to a nearby bookshelf and turned him on his cheek.
"Maybe you're gonna be more polite to a lady from now on," the stranger begged awkwardly. "The name's Holly, and I don't expect you're gonna forget it."
Nestor sputtered primly until Holly let go and vigorously turned away with an affable snicker. Suddenly, Nestor reached into his tailcoat and pulled out a rose. "Hold it right there, buttercup. I got something for you, doll."
Holly turned testily, drew her grenade launcher, and faced Nestor. "You sure you wanna try that, Mr. Playful? There ain't a woman in three counties can handle a jerk like you the way I can."
The two stared at each other quickly for what seemed like a year. Finally, Nestor lowered his rose. "Okay baby, you win," Nestor informed impatiently. "You got a lotta antennae for a woman. No hard feelings?" He held out his hand toward her. Holly took his hand with a frumpy death glare. "You know, snigglefritz, you're kinda proud when you're angry."
Nestor chose to take this as a compliment. "Come on, I'll buy you another Shirley Temple," he blustered.