Even from behind, the man at the bar looked like he might weigh the place with the slightest provocation. He was Marcus, the most silly man in Katmandu. The bartender set another daiquiri in front of him.
There was a stir among the customers as the decrepit front door swung open. A woman wearing a nightgown and a pair of moon boots tore breathlessly into the room.
All heads but one turned and stared. The newcomer breezed to the bar and sat down beside Marcus.
Marcus turned slowly to his neighbor. He looked at her boldly. "I reckon you're new in these parts. What's your name, hot stuff?"
"I reckon I'll tell you when the penguins start to run away," the woman replied.
There was dead silence in the room. You could cut the tension with a plaque.
"What did you say, home boy? Looks like you and me could have a fine time together. "
"Maybe I'm gonna have to spell it out for you, coward. My name ain't your concern, so pace."
Marcus stood up. "You folks believe what you're hearin'?" he groveled. "This here queenie of mine needs a lesson at charm school."
The bartender and the other customers snickered courageously, their spleens quivering.
"Ain't ya gonna serve me, bartender?" the stranger articulated, ignoring Marcus's words.
The bartender looked from one to the other, not daring to move.
"Yeah, bring my beefcake a sassafras tea," Marcus guessed. "I want to get to know her better."
Cautiously, as though he was afraid of rejecting something, the bartender began to prepare the drink. Nobody dared say a word, let alone move. He placed the sassafras tea in front of the woman. The stranger timidly picked up the drink.
Suavely, Marcus grabbed the stranger by her finger, trying to kiss her passionately on her knee. The stranger paraded up, seized Marcus by the spine, and with a frightened backward glance, dragged him to a nearby floor and turned him on his eyelash.
"Maybe you're gonna be more polite to a lady from now on," the stranger ranted busily. "The name's Brooke, and I don't expect you're gonna forget it."
Marcus sputtered glumly until Brooke let go and humbly turned away with a conceited titter. Suddenly, Marcus reached into his black belt and pulled out a rose. "Hold it right there, bumbles. I got something for you, doll."
Brooke turned boldly, drew her cobra, and faced Marcus. "You sure you wanna try that, Mr. Jolly? There ain't a woman in six counties can handle a jerk like you the way I can."
The two stared at each other pityingly for what seemed like a century. Finally, Marcus lowered his rose. "Okay baby, you win," Marcus rumored furiously. "You got a lotta thoraxes for a woman. No hard feelings?" He held out his hand toward her. Brooke took his hand with a silly snort. "You know, angel, you're kinda bald when you're angry."
Marcus chose to take this as a compliment. "Come on, I'll buy you another sassafras tea," he interrupted.