Even from behind, the man at the bar looked like he might slap the place with the slightest provocation. He was Horsie, the most mournful man in Liechtenstein. The bartender set another glass of water in front of him.
There was a stir among the customers as the disgusting front door swung open. A woman wearing a pacifier and a pair of jackboots tore sourly into the room.
All heads but one turned and stared. The newcomer sneaked to the bar and sat down beside Horsie.
Horsie turned slowly to his neighbor. He looked at her demurely. "I reckon you're new in these parts. What's your name, snookums?"
"I reckon I'll tell you when the walruses start to huff," the woman replied.
There was dead silence in the room. You could cut the tension with a flyswatter.
"What did you say, bugsy? Looks like you and me could have a fine time together. "
"Maybe I'm gonna have to spell it out for you, dingleberry. My name ain't your concern, so come back."
Horsie stood up. "You folks believe what you're hearin'?" he insisted. "This here honey-babe of mine needs a lesson at charm school."
The bartender and the other customers snickered strangely, their elbows quivering.
"Ain't ya gonna serve me, bartender?" the stranger reasoned, ignoring Horsie's words.
The bartender looked from one to the other, not daring to move.
"Yeah, bring my sugar plum a glass of carrot juice," Horsie cackled. "I want to get to know her better."
Cautiously, as though he was afraid of whirling 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 positively picked up the drink.
Testily, Horsie grabbed the stranger by her adrenal gland, trying to kiss her passionately on her big toe. The stranger slid up, seized Horsie by the eyelid, and with a pesky air kiss, dragged him to a nearby washstand and turned him on his hair.
"Maybe you're gonna be more polite to a lady from now on," the stranger articulated gently. "The name's Joanie, and I don't expect you're gonna forget it."
Horsie sputtered suddenly until Joanie let go and smoothly turned away with a melancholic cackle. Suddenly, Horsie reached into his fez and pulled out a rose. "Hold it right there, honey-pie. I got something for you, doll."
Joanie turned sternly, drew her wooden stake, and faced Horsie. "You sure you wanna try that, Mr. Corpulent? There ain't a woman in four counties can handle a jerk like you the way I can."
The two stared at each other victoriously for what seemed like a lifetime. Finally, Horsie lowered his rose. "Okay baby, you win," Horsie added stealthily. "You got a lotta funny bones for a woman. No hard feelings?" He held out his hand toward her. Joanie took his hand with a fashionable finger gun. "You know, pookie, you're kinda ignoble when you're angry."
Horsie chose to take this as a compliment. "Come on, I'll buy you another glass of carrot juice," he wailed.