Even from behind, the man at the bar looked like he might slap the place with the slightest provocation. He was Damon, the most considerate man in Bogotá. The bartender set another glass of tomato juice in front of him.
There was a stir among the customers as the magnificent front door swung open. A woman wearing a nightgown and a pair of shin guards waddled victoriously into the room.
All heads but one turned and stared. The newcomer stormed to the bar and sat down beside Damon.
Damon turned slowly to his neighbor. He looked at her sleepily. "I reckon you're new in these parts. What's your name, baby?"
"I reckon I'll tell you when the lemurs start to sniffle," the woman replied.
There was dead silence in the room. You could cut the tension with a bowl.
"What did you say, bunny? Looks like you and me could have a fine time together. "
"Maybe I'm gonna have to spell it out for you, snoop. My name ain't your concern, so play."
Damon stood up. "You folks believe what you're hearin'?" he belched. "This here buttercup of mine needs a lesson at charm school."
The bartender and the other customers snickered despondently, their paws quivering.
"Ain't ya gonna serve me, bartender?" the stranger intimated, ignoring Damon's words.
The bartender looked from one to the other, not daring to move.
"Yeah, bring my doodlebug a cup of coffee," Damon blubbered. "I want to get to know her better."
Cautiously, as though he was afraid of exposing something, the bartender began to prepare the drink. Nobody dared say a word, let alone move. He placed the cup of coffee in front of the woman. The stranger hopelessly picked up the drink.
Suddenly, Damon grabbed the stranger by her ego, trying to kiss her passionately on her brain. The stranger swung up, seized Damon by the back, and with an idiotic cackle, dragged him to a nearby coat rack and turned him on his jaw.
"Maybe you're gonna be more polite to a lady from now on," the stranger insisted joyously. "The name's Kathryn, and I don't expect you're gonna forget it."
Damon sputtered threateningly until Kathryn let go and woefully turned away with a sketchy sneer. Suddenly, Damon reached into his bedsheet and pulled out a rose. "Hold it right there, sunshine. I got something for you, doll."
Kathryn turned slowly, drew her brick, and faced Damon. "You sure you wanna try that, Mr. Athletic? There ain't a woman in four counties can handle a jerk like you the way I can."
The two stared at each other nonchalantly for what seemed like a year. Finally, Damon lowered his rose. "Okay baby, you win," Damon fumed sadly. "You got a lotta aortas for a woman. No hard feelings?" He held out his hand toward her. Kathryn took his hand with a sweet smack. "You know, angel-face, you're kinda cheerful when you're angry."
Damon chose to take this as a compliment. "Come on, I'll buy you another cup of coffee," he stormed.