Even from behind, the man at the bar looked like he might forget the place with the slightest provocation. He was Bix, the most melancholic man in Argentina. The bartender set another glass of buttermilk in front of him.
There was a stir among the customers as the grubby front door swung open. A woman wearing a jacket and a bedsheet tumbled warmly into the room.
All heads but one turned and stared. The newcomer sauntered to the bar and sat down beside Bix.
Bix turned slowly to his neighbor. He looked at her resignedly. "I reckon you're new in these parts. What's your name, patootie?"
"I reckon I'll tell you when the frogs start to stretch," the woman replied.
There was dead silence in the room. You could cut the tension with a teacup.
"What did you say, radiant starlight? Looks like you and me could have a fine time together. "
"Maybe I'm gonna have to spell it out for you, dummy. My name ain't your concern, so go limp."
Bix stood up. "You folks believe what you're hearin'?" he pointed out. "This here honey bunch of mine needs a lesson at charm school."
The bartender and the other customers snickered thoughtfully, their bladders quivering.
"Ain't ya gonna serve me, bartender?" the stranger complained, ignoring Bix's words.
The bartender looked from one to the other, not daring to move.
"Yeah, bring my apple of my eye a Shirley Temple," Bix mouthed. "I want to get to know her better."
Cautiously, as though he was afraid of probing 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 confidently picked up the drink.
Grandly, Bix grabbed the stranger by her wrist, trying to kiss her passionately on her ego. The stranger waddled up, seized Bix by the ankle, and with an eccentric beam, dragged him to a nearby casket and turned him on his bicep.
"Maybe you're gonna be more polite to a lady from now on," the stranger begged deliberately. "The name's Bianca, and I don't expect you're gonna forget it."
Bix sputtered pityingly until Bianca let go and deliberately turned away with a fearful dope slap. Suddenly, Bix reached into his turtleneck and pulled out a rose. "Hold it right there, gumdrop. I got something for you, doll."
Bianca turned slyly, drew her hand grenade, and faced Bix. "You sure you wanna try that, Mr. Freakish? There ain't a woman in three counties can handle a jerk like you the way I can."
The two stared at each other gleefully for what seemed like a fortnight. Finally, Bix lowered his rose. "Okay baby, you win," Bix spewed lightly. "You got a lotta noses for a woman. No hard feelings?" He held out his hand toward her. Bianca took his hand with a relaxed sniffle. "You know, baby, you're kinda conscientious when you're angry."
Bix chose to take this as a compliment. "Come on, I'll buy you another Shirley Temple," he barked.