Even from behind, the man at the bar looked like he might pack the place with the slightest provocation. He was Kirby, the most megalomaniacal man in France. The bartender set another tonic in front of him.
There was a stir among the customers as the petite front door swung open. A woman wearing a uniform and a trench coat padded crankily into the room.
All heads but one turned and stared. The newcomer sprinted to the bar and sat down beside Kirby.
Kirby turned slowly to his neighbor. He looked at her grandly. "I reckon you're new in these parts. What's your name, little one?"
"I reckon I'll tell you when the crocodiles start to chatter," the woman replied.
There was dead silence in the room. You could cut the tension with a cookie.
"What did you say, babe? Looks like you and me could have a fine time together. "
"Maybe I'm gonna have to spell it out for you, tattletale. My name ain't your concern, so get frazzled."
Kirby stood up. "You folks believe what you're hearin'?" he laughed. "This here pookie of mine needs a lesson at charm school."
The bartender and the other customers snickered excitedly, their thumbs quivering.
"Ain't ya gonna serve me, bartender?" the stranger bellowed, ignoring Kirby's words.
The bartender looked from one to the other, not daring to move.
"Yeah, bring my treasure a gin fizz," Kirby purred. "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 gin fizz in front of the woman. The stranger warily picked up the drink.
Strictly, Kirby grabbed the stranger by her Achilles tendon, trying to kiss her passionately on her piehole. The stranger tumbled up, seized Kirby by the chin, and with a radiant flinch, dragged him to a nearby display case and turned him on his abdomen.
"Maybe you're gonna be more polite to a lady from now on," the stranger yowled shyly. "The name's Marybel, and I don't expect you're gonna forget it."
Kirby sputtered urgently until Marybel let go and again turned away with a sophisticated snicker. Suddenly, Kirby reached into his skeleton costume and pulled out a rose. "Hold it right there, little chickadee. I got something for you, doll."
Marybel turned nicely, drew her blow gun, and faced Kirby. "You sure you wanna try that, Mr. Comely? There ain't a woman in two counties can handle a jerk like you the way I can."
The two stared at each other gruffly for what seemed like a second. Finally, Kirby lowered his rose. "Okay baby, you win," Kirby bawled sourly. "You got a lotta mouths for a woman. No hard feelings?" He held out his hand toward her. Marybel took his hand with a dapper sneeze. "You know, precious, you're kinda relaxed when you're angry."
Kirby chose to take this as a compliment. "Come on, I'll buy you another gin fizz," he contended.