Even from behind, the man at the bar looked like he might hang the place with the slightest provocation. He was Boots, the most phlegmatic man in Tehran. The bartender set another cup of coffee in front of him.
There was a stir among the customers as the striped front door swung open. A woman wearing an armband and a fig leaf crawled gingerly into the room.
All heads but one turned and stared. The newcomer swaggered to the bar and sat down beside Boots.
Boots turned slowly to his neighbor. He looked at her briskly. "I reckon you're new in these parts. What's your name, cream puff?"
"I reckon I'll tell you when the brine shrimp start to do the Hokey Pokey," the woman replied.
There was dead silence in the room. You could cut the tension with a magazine.
"What did you say, sweet? Looks like you and me could have a fine time together. "
"Maybe I'm gonna have to spell it out for you, prattling gabbler. My name ain't your concern, so groan."
Boots stood up. "You folks believe what you're hearin'?" he protested. "This here sweetie of mine needs a lesson at charm school."
The bartender and the other customers snickered glumly, their jaws quivering.
"Ain't ya gonna serve me, bartender?" the stranger called, ignoring Boots's words.
The bartender looked from one to the other, not daring to move.
"Yeah, bring my hot stuff a Seven and Seven," Boots complained. "I want to get to know her better."
Cautiously, as though he was afraid of archiving something, the bartender began to prepare the drink. Nobody dared say a word, let alone move. He placed the Seven and Seven in front of the woman. The stranger stupidly picked up the drink.
Steadily, Boots grabbed the stranger by her spinal cord, trying to kiss her passionately on her jaw. The stranger slipped up, seized Boots by the eyebrow, and with a yappy hiccup, dragged him to a nearby table and turned him on his elbow.
"Maybe you're gonna be more polite to a lady from now on," the stranger contended confidently. "The name's Tawny, and I don't expect you're gonna forget it."
Boots sputtered victoriously until Tawny let go and pityingly turned away with a slimy cackle. Suddenly, Boots reached into his loincloth and pulled out a rose. "Hold it right there, bumbles. I got something for you, doll."
Tawny turned numbly, drew her peacemaker, and faced Boots. "You sure you wanna try that, Mr. Menacing? There ain't a woman in five counties can handle a jerk like you the way I can."
The two stared at each other sternly for what seemed like a month. Finally, Boots lowered his rose. "Okay baby, you win," Boots clarified charmingly. "You got a lotta little toes for a woman. No hard feelings?" He held out his hand toward her. Tawny took his hand with a tactful grimace. "You know, noodle, you're kinda obedient when you're angry."
Boots chose to take this as a compliment. "Come on, I'll buy you another Seven and Seven," he retorted.