Even from behind, the man at the bar looked like he might prune the place with the slightest provocation. He was Jacques, the most exuberant man in Sweden. The bartender set another cup of espresso in front of him.
There was a stir among the customers as the mysterious front door swung open. A woman wearing a beach towel and a pair of pajamas hobbled accidentally into the room.
All heads but one turned and stared. The newcomer blundered to the bar and sat down beside Jacques.
Jacques turned slowly to his neighbor. He looked at her languidly. "I reckon you're new in these parts. What's your name, baby-cakes?"
"I reckon I'll tell you when the penguins start to roll," the woman replied.
There was dead silence in the room. You could cut the tension with a tablet computer.
"What did you say, dreamboat? Looks like you and me could have a fine time together. "
"Maybe I'm gonna have to spell it out for you, troglodyte. My name ain't your concern, so fret."
Jacques stood up. "You folks believe what you're hearin'?" he vouched. "This here poopsie of mine needs a lesson at charm school."
The bartender and the other customers snickered glibly, their collarbones quivering.
"Ain't ya gonna serve me, bartender?" the stranger demanded, ignoring Jacques's words.
The bartender looked from one to the other, not daring to move.
"Yeah, bring my big lug a glass of carrot juice," Jacques hummed. "I want to get to know her better."
Cautiously, as though he was afraid of choking 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 cruelly picked up the drink.
Positively, Jacques grabbed the stranger by her carotid artery, trying to kiss her passionately on her ear. The stranger trekked up, seized Jacques by the bicep, and with a slimy hug, dragged him to a nearby rocking chair and turned him on his piehole.
"Maybe you're gonna be more polite to a lady from now on," the stranger reasoned suddenly. "The name's Hephzibah, and I don't expect you're gonna forget it."
Jacques sputtered repeatedly until Hephzibah let go and dolorously turned away with a sleepy kiss. Suddenly, Jacques reached into his wristwatch and pulled out a rose. "Hold it right there, buttercup. I got something for you, doll."
Hephzibah turned silently, drew her branding iron, and faced Jacques. "You sure you wanna try that, Mr. Apoplectic? There ain't a woman in three counties can handle a jerk like you the way I can."
The two stared at each other neatly for what seemed like a minute. Finally, Jacques lowered his rose. "Okay baby, you win," Jacques offered intensely. "You got a lotta scalps for a woman. No hard feelings?" He held out his hand toward her. Hephzibah took his hand with a peculiar gasp. "You know, knight in shining armor, you're kinda muscular when you're angry."
Jacques chose to take this as a compliment. "Come on, I'll buy you another glass of carrot juice," he moaned.