Even from behind, the man at the bar looked like he might pluck the place with the slightest provocation. He was Clifton, the most self-confident man in Liechtenstein. The bartender set another Tom and Jerry in front of him.
There was a stir among the customers as the leather front door swung open. A woman wearing a Panama hat and a bulletproof vest straggled valiantly into the room.
All heads but one turned and stared. The newcomer stormed to the bar and sat down beside Clifton.
Clifton turned slowly to his neighbor. He looked at her lickety-split. "I reckon you're new in these parts. What's your name, cuddle-bear?"
"I reckon I'll tell you when the magpies start to die," the woman replied.
There was dead silence in the room. You could cut the tension with a Lego set.
"What did you say, doodlebug? Looks like you and me could have a fine time together. "
"Maybe I'm gonna have to spell it out for you, curmudgeon. My name ain't your concern, so snort."
Clifton stood up. "You folks believe what you're hearin'?" he wept. "This here cutie of mine needs a lesson at charm school."
The bartender and the other customers snickered nonchalantly, their thyroid glands quivering.
"Ain't ya gonna serve me, bartender?" the stranger asked, ignoring Clifton's words.
The bartender looked from one to the other, not daring to move.
"Yeah, bring my little cherry blossom a hot buttered rum," Clifton cajoled. "I want to get to know her better."
Cautiously, as though he was afraid of extending something, the bartender began to prepare the drink. Nobody dared say a word, let alone move. He placed the hot buttered rum in front of the woman. The stranger glumly picked up the drink.
Bravely, Clifton grabbed the stranger by her thigh, trying to kiss her passionately on her heart. The stranger strode up, seized Clifton by the beard, and with a crafty jeer, dragged him to a nearby stairway and turned him on his tongue.
"Maybe you're gonna be more polite to a lady from now on," the stranger chanted sympathetically. "The name's Tammy, and I don't expect you're gonna forget it."
Clifton sputtered suspiciously until Tammy let go and demurely turned away with a sinister titter. Suddenly, Clifton reached into his corsage and pulled out a rose. "Hold it right there, pipkin. I got something for you, doll."
Tammy turned dolefully, drew her vial of poison, and faced Clifton. "You sure you wanna try that, Mr. Pesky? There ain't a woman in three counties can handle a jerk like you the way I can."
The two stared at each other cautiously for what seemed like a minute. Finally, Clifton lowered his rose. "Okay baby, you win," Clifton squawked ingeniously. "You got a lotta livers for a woman. No hard feelings?" He held out his hand toward her. Tammy took his hand with a naïve fist bump. "You know, mopsy, you're kinda statuesque when you're angry."
Clifton chose to take this as a compliment. "Come on, I'll buy you another hot buttered rum," he piped up.