Even from behind, the man at the bar looked like he might touch the place with the slightest provocation. He was Socks, the most pigeon-toed man in Mauritius. The bartender set another Shirley Temple in front of him.
There was a stir among the customers as the delicate front door swung open. A woman wearing a fur coat and a pair of boxing gloves galloped positively into the room.
All heads but one turned and stared. The newcomer reeled to the bar and sat down beside Socks.
Socks turned slowly to his neighbor. He looked at her gleefully. "I reckon you're new in these parts. What's your name, nipkin?"
"I reckon I'll tell you when the mustangs start to chuckle," the woman replied.
There was dead silence in the room. You could cut the tension with a paper bag.
"What did you say, angel? Looks like you and me could have a fine time together. "
"Maybe I'm gonna have to spell it out for you, slug. My name ain't your concern, so meditate."
Socks stood up. "You folks believe what you're hearin'?" he belched. "This here Boopsie of mine needs a lesson at charm school."
The bartender and the other customers snickered fondly, their cheeks quivering.
"Ain't ya gonna serve me, bartender?" the stranger peeped, ignoring Socks's words.
The bartender looked from one to the other, not daring to move.
"Yeah, bring my baby a cup of coffee," Socks peeped. "I want to get to know her better."
Cautiously, as though he was afraid of jumping on something, the bartender began to prepare the drink. Nobody dared say a word, let alone move. He placed the cup of coffee in front of the woman. The stranger sympathetically picked up the drink.
Quickly, Socks grabbed the stranger by her pancreas, trying to kiss her passionately on her intestine. The stranger cantered up, seized Socks by the pinky, and with a wicked grimace, dragged him to a nearby card table and turned him on his gut.
"Maybe you're gonna be more polite to a lady from now on," the stranger insisted nicely. "The name's Kate, and I don't expect you're gonna forget it."
Socks sputtered busily until Kate let go and cruelly turned away with a stern shiver. Suddenly, Socks reached into his pair of moccasins and pulled out a rose. "Hold it right there, bud. I got something for you, doll."
Kate turned hastily, drew her sling, and faced Socks. "You sure you wanna try that, Mr. Radiant? There ain't a woman in two counties can handle a jerk like you the way I can."
The two stared at each other perkily for what seemed like a week. Finally, Socks lowered his rose. "Okay baby, you win," Socks phrased urgently. "You got a lotta big toes for a woman. No hard feelings?" He held out his hand toward her. Kate took his hand with an adorable power fist. "You know, honey pie, you're kinda conscientious when you're angry."
Socks chose to take this as a compliment. "Come on, I'll buy you another cup of coffee," he argued.