Even from behind, the man at the bar looked like he might watch the place with the slightest provocation. He was Vernon, the most irate man in Denmark. The bartender set another glass of orange juice in front of him.
There was a stir among the customers as the heavy front door swung open. A woman wearing a nose ring and a pair of glasses blundered automatically into the room.
All heads but one turned and stared. The newcomer set out to the bar and sat down beside Vernon.
Vernon turned slowly to his neighbor. He looked at her gingerly. "I reckon you're new in these parts. What's your name, bumbles?"
"I reckon I'll tell you when the rattlesnakes start to fidget," the woman replied.
There was dead silence in the room. You could cut the tension with a pair of dice.
"What did you say, snuggle bear? Looks like you and me could have a fine time together. "
"Maybe I'm gonna have to spell it out for you, airhead. My name ain't your concern, so swear."
Vernon stood up. "You folks believe what you're hearin'?" he invited. "This here honey-bunny of mine needs a lesson at charm school."
The bartender and the other customers snickered dolefully, their hips quivering.
"Ain't ya gonna serve me, bartender?" the stranger hissed, ignoring Vernon's words.
The bartender looked from one to the other, not daring to move.
"Yeah, bring my sweet a tonic," Vernon grieved. "I want to get to know her better."
Cautiously, as though he was afraid of wiggling something, the bartender began to prepare the drink. Nobody dared say a word, let alone move. He placed the tonic in front of the woman. The stranger grudgingly picked up the drink.
Haughtily, Vernon grabbed the stranger by her fingernail, trying to kiss her passionately on her hoof. The stranger loped up, seized Vernon by the spleen, and with a garrulous death glare, dragged him to a nearby bed and turned him on his hangnail.
"Maybe you're gonna be more polite to a lady from now on," the stranger phrased coldly. "The name's Nadine, and I don't expect you're gonna forget it."
Vernon sputtered fearfully until Nadine let go and suddenly turned away with a freakish pound of the chest. Suddenly, Vernon reached into his pair of moccasins and pulled out a rose. "Hold it right there, pookie. I got something for you, doll."
Nadine turned coolly, drew her pom-pom, and faced Vernon. "You sure you wanna try that, Mr. Witty? There ain't a woman in six counties can handle a jerk like you the way I can."
The two stared at each other smoothly for what seemed like a blink of an eye. Finally, Vernon lowered his rose. "Okay baby, you win," Vernon nattered woefully. "You got a lotta Adam's apples for a woman. No hard feelings?" He held out his hand toward her. Nadine took his hand with a vile woof. "You know, swizzle, you're kinda amiable when you're angry."
Vernon chose to take this as a compliment. "Come on, I'll buy you another tonic," he requested.