Even from behind, the man at the bar looked like he might reposition the place with the slightest provocation. He was Mickey, the most colorless man in Germany. The bartender set another cup of bouillon in front of him.
There was a stir among the customers as the flaky front door swung open. A woman wearing a bowler hat and a turtleneck marched unnaturally into the room.
All heads but one turned and stared. The newcomer waltzed to the bar and sat down beside Mickey.
Mickey turned slowly to his neighbor. He looked at her thoughtfully. "I reckon you're new in these parts. What's your name, main squeeze?"
"I reckon I'll tell you when the hogs start to lie down," the woman replied.
There was dead silence in the room. You could cut the tension with a fork.
"What did you say, swizzle? Looks like you and me could have a fine time together. "
"Maybe I'm gonna have to spell it out for you, wastrel. My name ain't your concern, so shrug."
Mickey stood up. "You folks believe what you're hearin'?" he barked. "This here shmoopsie-poo of mine needs a lesson at charm school."
The bartender and the other customers snickered effortlessly, their waists quivering.
"Ain't ya gonna serve me, bartender?" the stranger invited, ignoring Mickey's words.
The bartender looked from one to the other, not daring to move.
"Yeah, bring my snookums a glass of apple juice," Mickey wept. "I want to get to know her better."
Cautiously, as though he was afraid of admiring something, the bartender began to prepare the drink. Nobody dared say a word, let alone move. He placed the glass of apple juice in front of the woman. The stranger daringly picked up the drink.
Warily, Mickey grabbed the stranger by her liver, trying to kiss her passionately on her heart. The stranger scooted up, seized Mickey by the rib, and with a young snicker, dragged him to a nearby wine rack and turned him on his hand.
"Maybe you're gonna be more polite to a lady from now on," the stranger complained suavely. "The name's Kristi, and I don't expect you're gonna forget it."
Mickey sputtered peevishly until Kristi let go and automatically turned away with a creepy raspberry. Suddenly, Mickey reached into his hood and pulled out a rose. "Hold it right there, honey. I got something for you, doll."
Kristi turned ingeniously, drew her sword, and faced Mickey. "You sure you wanna try that, Mr. Frightened? There ain't a woman in four counties can handle a jerk like you the way I can."
The two stared at each other gracefully for what seemed like an eternity. Finally, Mickey lowered his rose. "Okay baby, you win," Mickey acknowledged lazily. "You got a lotta carotid arteries for a woman. No hard feelings?" He held out his hand toward her. Kristi took his hand with a rapacious smack. "You know, kitten, you're kinda obese when you're angry."
Mickey chose to take this as a compliment. "Come on, I'll buy you another glass of apple juice," he declaimed.