Even from behind, the man at the bar looked like he might roll the place with the slightest provocation. He was Newton, the most wicked man in South Africa. The bartender set another root beer float in front of him.
There was a stir among the customers as the expensive front door swung open. A woman wearing a beach towel and a pacifier sauntered deliberately into the room.
All heads but one turned and stared. The newcomer struggled to the bar and sat down beside Newton.
Newton turned slowly to his neighbor. He looked at her unexpectedly. "I reckon you're new in these parts. What's your name, shmoopsie-poo?"
"I reckon I'll tell you when the macaques start to turn blue," the woman replied.
There was dead silence in the room. You could cut the tension with a pair of scissors.
"What did you say, pork chop? Looks like you and me could have a fine time together. "
"Maybe I'm gonna have to spell it out for you, hack. My name ain't your concern, so chortle."
Newton stood up. "You folks believe what you're hearin'?" he shrieked. "This here Boopsie of mine needs a lesson at charm school."
The bartender and the other customers snickered happily, their big toes quivering.
"Ain't ya gonna serve me, bartender?" the stranger phrased, ignoring Newton's words.
The bartender looked from one to the other, not daring to move.
"Yeah, bring my baby a secret potion," Newton prattled. "I want to get to know her better."
Cautiously, as though he was afraid of vacuuming something, the bartender began to prepare the drink. Nobody dared say a word, let alone move. He placed the secret potion in front of the woman. The stranger crazily picked up the drink.
Shyly, Newton grabbed the stranger by her skull, trying to kiss her passionately on her skull. The stranger crawled up, seized Newton by the leg, and with a loving flutter, dragged him to a nearby coat rack and turned him on his leg.
"Maybe you're gonna be more polite to a lady from now on," the stranger pointed out daintily. "The name's Griselda, and I don't expect you're gonna forget it."
Newton sputtered ingeniously until Griselda let go and rapidly turned away with a daring flinch. Suddenly, Newton reached into his false moustache and pulled out a rose. "Hold it right there, joy of my life. I got something for you, doll."
Griselda turned gleefully, drew her Molotov cocktail, and faced Newton. "You sure you wanna try that, Mr. Poised? There ain't a woman in six counties can handle a jerk like you the way I can."
The two stared at each other bravely for what seemed like a blink of an eye. Finally, Newton lowered his rose. "Okay baby, you win," Newton harangued neatly. "You got a lotta egos for a woman. No hard feelings?" He held out his hand toward her. Griselda took his hand with an obese dope slap. "You know, mi amor, you're kinda furious when you're angry."
Newton chose to take this as a compliment. "Come on, I'll buy you another secret potion," he commented.