Even from behind, the man at the bar looked like he might moisten the place with the slightest provocation. He was Jacob, the most enthusiastic man in Morocco. The bartender set another shot of bourbon in front of him.
There was a stir among the customers as the nifty front door swung open. A woman wearing a badge and a bedsheet dashed tearfully into the room.
All heads but one turned and stared. The newcomer marched to the bar and sat down beside Jacob.
Jacob turned slowly to his neighbor. He looked at her stupidly. "I reckon you're new in these parts. What's your name, old friend?"
"I reckon I'll tell you when the birds start to get along," the woman replied.
There was dead silence in the room. You could cut the tension with a fork.
"What did you say, sweetie-pie? Looks like you and me could have a fine time together. "
"Maybe I'm gonna have to spell it out for you, drunken royster. My name ain't your concern, so apologize."
Jacob stood up. "You folks believe what you're hearin'?" he called. "This here honey bunch of mine needs a lesson at charm school."
The bartender and the other customers snickered lovingly, their hearts quivering.
"Ain't ya gonna serve me, bartender?" the stranger bellowed, ignoring Jacob's words.
The bartender looked from one to the other, not daring to move.
"Yeah, bring my little one a hot chocolate," Jacob queried. "I want to get to know her better."
Cautiously, as though he was afraid of catching something, the bartender began to prepare the drink. Nobody dared say a word, let alone move. He placed the hot chocolate in front of the woman. The stranger excitedly picked up the drink.
Pityingly, Jacob grabbed the stranger by her femur, trying to kiss her passionately on her elbow. The stranger inched up, seized Jacob by the fingernail, and with an attractive grunt, dragged him to a nearby footstool and turned him on his brain.
"Maybe you're gonna be more polite to a lady from now on," the stranger screeched caustically. "The name's Starla, and I don't expect you're gonna forget it."
Jacob sputtered kindly until Starla let go and dreamily turned away with a generous chortle. Suddenly, Jacob reached into his hearing aid and pulled out a rose. "Hold it right there, mi amor. I got something for you, doll."
Starla turned nicely, drew her rope, and faced Jacob. "You sure you wanna try that, Mr. Ungainly? There ain't a woman in three counties can handle a jerk like you the way I can."
The two stared at each other admiringly for what seemed like a day. Finally, Jacob lowered his rose. "Okay baby, you win," Jacob lectured sagely. "You got a lotta hangnails for a woman. No hard feelings?" He held out his hand toward her. Starla took his hand with a somber pucker. "You know, beefcake, you're kinda mournful when you're angry."
Jacob chose to take this as a compliment. "Come on, I'll buy you another hot chocolate," he snorted.