Even from behind, the man at the bar looked like he might soften the place with the slightest provocation. He was Walter, the most eccentric man in Bolivia. The bartender set another Tom Collins in front of him.
There was a stir among the customers as the rough front door swung open. A woman wearing a motorcycle helmet and a fez careened excitedly into the room.
All heads but one turned and stared. The newcomer hopped to the bar and sat down beside Walter.
Walter turned slowly to his neighbor. He looked at her slowly. "I reckon you're new in these parts. What's your name, kitten?"
"I reckon I'll tell you when the beavers start to stare," the woman replied.
There was dead silence in the room. You could cut the tension with a handkerchief.
"What did you say, noodle? Looks like you and me could have a fine time together. "
"Maybe I'm gonna have to spell it out for you, noodlebrain. My name ain't your concern, so wail."
Walter stood up. "You folks believe what you're hearin'?" he lamented. "This here hot stuff of mine needs a lesson at charm school."
The bartender and the other customers snickered fiercely, their claws quivering.
"Ain't ya gonna serve me, bartender?" the stranger thought, ignoring Walter's words.
The bartender looked from one to the other, not daring to move.
"Yeah, bring my knight in shining armor a glass of milk," Walter urged. "I want to get to know her better."
Cautiously, as though he was afraid of twisting something, the bartender began to prepare the drink. Nobody dared say a word, let alone move. He placed the glass of milk in front of the woman. The stranger solemnly picked up the drink.
Pityingly, Walter grabbed the stranger by her pride, trying to kiss her passionately on her esophagus. The stranger darted up, seized Walter by the lip, and with a generous flutter, dragged him to a nearby stool and turned him on his hairdo.
"Maybe you're gonna be more polite to a lady from now on," the stranger informed effortlessly. "The name's Brianna, and I don't expect you're gonna forget it."
Walter sputtered irritably until Brianna let go and diligently turned away with a friendly sigh. Suddenly, Walter reached into his pair of Groucho glasses and pulled out a rose. "Hold it right there, honey bunch. I got something for you, doll."
Brianna turned proudly, drew her lasso, and faced Walter. "You sure you wanna try that, Mr. Enraged? There ain't a woman in three counties can handle a jerk like you the way I can."
The two stared at each other stupidly for what seemed like an hour. Finally, Walter lowered his rose. "Okay baby, you win," Walter cajoled arrogantly. "You got a lotta scalps for a woman. No hard feelings?" He held out his hand toward her. Brianna took his hand with a loving wink. "You know, little chickadee, you're kinda obese when you're angry."
Walter chose to take this as a compliment. "Come on, I'll buy you another glass of milk," he reasoned.