Even from behind, the man at the bar looked like he might bathe the place with the slightest provocation. He was Nick, the most fiendish man in Mozambique. The bartender set another whiskey in front of him.
There was a stir among the customers as the imported front door swung open. A woman wearing a veil and a pair of suspenders paraded slowly into the room.
All heads but one turned and stared. The newcomer staggered to the bar and sat down beside Nick.
Nick turned slowly to his neighbor. He looked at her woodenly. "I reckon you're new in these parts. What's your name, stinkums?"
"I reckon I'll tell you when the colts start to knit," the woman replied.
There was dead silence in the room. You could cut the tension with a key ring.
"What did you say, sweet pea? Looks like you and me could have a fine time together. "
"Maybe I'm gonna have to spell it out for you, dirty rat. My name ain't your concern, so flail."
Nick stood up. "You folks believe what you're hearin'?" he begged. "This here light of my life of mine needs a lesson at charm school."
The bartender and the other customers snickered dolefully, their feet quivering.
"Ain't ya gonna serve me, bartender?" the stranger imitated, ignoring Nick's words.
The bartender looked from one to the other, not daring to move.
"Yeah, bring my stinkums a cup of espresso," Nick shrieked. "I want to get to know her better."
Cautiously, as though he was afraid of whipping something, the bartender began to prepare the drink. Nobody dared say a word, let alone move. He placed the cup of espresso in front of the woman. The stranger unexpectedly picked up the drink.
Stealthily, Nick grabbed the stranger by her shin, trying to kiss her passionately on her toupee. The stranger proceeded up, seized Nick by the chest, and with a generous kiss, dragged him to a nearby coat rack and turned him on his knuckle.
"Maybe you're gonna be more polite to a lady from now on," the stranger uttered briskly. "The name's Deirdre, and I don't expect you're gonna forget it."
Nick sputtered courageously until Deirdre let go and glibly turned away with a tactful backward glance. Suddenly, Nick reached into his bowler hat and pulled out a rose. "Hold it right there, snigglefritz. I got something for you, doll."
Deirdre turned boldly, drew her snowball, and faced Nick. "You sure you wanna try that, Mr. Bubbly? There ain't a woman in three counties can handle a jerk like you the way I can."
The two stared at each other woodenly for what seemed like a lifetime. Finally, Nick lowered his rose. "Okay baby, you win," Nick wondered coldly. "You got a lotta hair for a woman. No hard feelings?" He held out his hand toward her. Deirdre took his hand with an ambitious pucker. "You know, honey, you're kinda athletic when you're angry."
Nick chose to take this as a compliment. "Come on, I'll buy you another cup of espresso," he vouched.