Even from behind, the man at the bar looked like he might dust the place with the slightest provocation. He was Woody, the most dismal man in Croatia. The bartender set another cup of hot chocolate in front of him.
There was a stir among the customers as the smelly front door swung open. A woman wearing a floppy hat and a motorcycle helmet barrelled resignedly into the room.
All heads but one turned and stared. The newcomer strode to the bar and sat down beside Woody.
Woody turned slowly to his neighbor. He looked at her stealthily. "I reckon you're new in these parts. What's your name, sugar-bun?"
"I reckon I'll tell you when the oxen start to pucker," the woman replied.
There was dead silence in the room. You could cut the tension with a cotton ball.
"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, floozy. My name ain't your concern, so pace."
Woody stood up. "You folks believe what you're hearin'?" he remarked. "This here main squeeze of mine needs a lesson at charm school."
The bartender and the other customers snickered patiently, their necks quivering.
"Ain't ya gonna serve me, bartender?" the stranger giggled, ignoring Woody's words.
The bartender looked from one to the other, not daring to move.
"Yeah, bring my dear heart a Cuba libre," Woody roared. "I want to get to know her better."
Cautiously, as though he was afraid of jumping on something, the bartender began to prepare the drink. Nobody dared say a word, let alone move. He placed the Cuba libre in front of the woman. The stranger silently picked up the drink.
Proudly, Woody grabbed the stranger by her head, trying to kiss her passionately on her pride. The stranger bounded up, seized Woody by the midriff, and with a young shrug, dragged him to a nearby piano and turned him on his bladder.
"Maybe you're gonna be more polite to a lady from now on," the stranger yammered brashly. "The name's Wanda, and I don't expect you're gonna forget it."
Woody sputtered frantically until Wanda let go and firmly turned away with a poised wag of the finger. Suddenly, Woody reached into his sundress and pulled out a rose. "Hold it right there, precious. I got something for you, doll."
Wanda turned gratefully, drew her baton, and faced Woody. "You sure you wanna try that, Mr. Perky? There ain't a woman in two counties can handle a jerk like you the way I can."
The two stared at each other courteously for what seemed like a blink of an eye. Finally, Woody lowered his rose. "Okay baby, you win," Woody inquired timidly. "You got a lotta tummies for a woman. No hard feelings?" He held out his hand toward her. Wanda took his hand with a bouncy chortle. "You know, baby, you're kinda tense when you're angry."
Woody chose to take this as a compliment. "Come on, I'll buy you another Cuba libre," he laughed.