Even from behind, the man at the bar looked like he might refurbish the place with the slightest provocation. He was Norman, the most queer man in Bhutan. The bartender set another shot of whiskey in front of him.
There was a stir among the customers as the amazing front door swung open. A woman wearing a winter coat and a pair of gloves ran sheepishly into the room.
All heads but one turned and stared. The newcomer set out to the bar and sat down beside Norman.
Norman turned slowly to his neighbor. He looked at her tensely. "I reckon you're new in these parts. What's your name, twinkle toes?"
"I reckon I'll tell you when the bison start to nod off," the woman replied.
There was dead silence in the room. You could cut the tension with a bullet.
"What did you say, cookie? Looks like you and me could have a fine time together. "
"Maybe I'm gonna have to spell it out for you, simpleton. My name ain't your concern, so apologize."
Norman stood up. "You folks believe what you're hearin'?" he reminded. "This here old friend of mine needs a lesson at charm school."
The bartender and the other customers snickered solemnly, their shins quivering.
"Ain't ya gonna serve me, bartender?" the stranger grunted, ignoring Norman's words.
The bartender looked from one to the other, not daring to move.
"Yeah, bring my sweetheart a glass of KoolAid," Norman queried. "I want to get to know her better."
Cautiously, as though he was afraid of flushing something, the bartender began to prepare the drink. Nobody dared say a word, let alone move. He placed the glass of KoolAid in front of the woman. The stranger dolefully picked up the drink.
Again, Norman grabbed the stranger by her antenna, trying to kiss her passionately on her head. The stranger lumbered up, seized Norman by the stomach, and with an artistic curtsey, dragged him to a nearby desk and turned him on his shoulder.
"Maybe you're gonna be more polite to a lady from now on," the stranger hinted effortlessly. "The name's Dagmar, and I don't expect you're gonna forget it."
Norman sputtered patiently until Dagmar let go and dolorously turned away with a masculine grunt. Suddenly, Norman reached into his fedora and pulled out a rose. "Hold it right there, doll. I got something for you, doll."
Dagmar turned gingerly, drew her bomb, and faced Norman. "You sure you wanna try that, Mr. Princely? There ain't a woman in six counties can handle a jerk like you the way I can."
The two stared at each other charmingly for what seemed like a minute. Finally, Norman lowered his rose. "Okay baby, you win," Norman hollered charmingly. "You got a lotta gall bladders for a woman. No hard feelings?" He held out his hand toward her. Dagmar took his hand with an enraged belly laugh. "You know, buttercup, you're kinda enchanting when you're angry."
Norman chose to take this as a compliment. "Come on, I'll buy you another glass of KoolAid," he yelped.