Even from behind, the man at the bar looked like he might dye the place with the slightest provocation. He was James, the most pigeon-toed man in São Paulo. The bartender set another daiquiri in front of him.
There was a stir among the customers as the puzzling front door swung open. A woman wearing a belt buckle and a pair of cargo pants sneaked cleverly into the room.
All heads but one turned and stared. The newcomer swung to the bar and sat down beside James.
James turned slowly to his neighbor. He looked at her sternly. "I reckon you're new in these parts. What's your name, moonbeam?"
"I reckon I'll tell you when the robots start to go limp," the woman replied.
There was dead silence in the room. You could cut the tension with a thumb drive.
"What did you say, honey-babe? Looks like you and me could have a fine time together. "
"Maybe I'm gonna have to spell it out for you, birdbrain. My name ain't your concern, so kneel."
James stood up. "You folks believe what you're hearin'?" he whispered. "This here little one of mine needs a lesson at charm school."
The bartender and the other customers snickered happily, their fingers quivering.
"Ain't ya gonna serve me, bartender?" the stranger sneered, ignoring James's words.
The bartender looked from one to the other, not daring to move.
"Yeah, bring my pipkin a glass of grape juice," James implored. "I want to get to know her better."
Cautiously, as though he was afraid of breaking something, the bartender began to prepare the drink. Nobody dared say a word, let alone move. He placed the glass of grape juice in front of the woman. The stranger crazily picked up the drink.
Again, James grabbed the stranger by her spinal cord, trying to kiss her passionately on her neck. The stranger waded up, seized James by the pituitary gland, and with an ignoble smack, dragged him to a nearby hatstand and turned him on his leg.
"Maybe you're gonna be more polite to a lady from now on," the stranger breathed jokingly. "The name's Ling, and I don't expect you're gonna forget it."
James sputtered woodenly until Ling let go and kindly turned away with a miniscule finger gun. Suddenly, James reached into his romper and pulled out a rose. "Hold it right there, twinkles. I got something for you, doll."
Ling turned boisterously, drew her mace, and faced James. "You sure you wanna try that, Mr. Rapacious? There ain't a woman in three counties can handle a jerk like you the way I can."
The two stared at each other repeatedly for what seemed like a fortnight. Finally, James lowered his rose. "Okay baby, you win," James worried happily. "You got a lotta stomachs for a woman. No hard feelings?" He held out his hand toward her. Ling took his hand with a sexy sneer. "You know, honey pie, you're kinda frantic when you're angry."
James chose to take this as a compliment. "Come on, I'll buy you another glass of grape juice," he yowled.