Even from behind, the man at the bar looked like he might burn the place with the slightest provocation. He was Vance, the most angry man in Paris. The bartender set another Moscow mule in front of him.
There was a stir among the customers as the funny front door swung open. A woman wearing a headscarf and a pocket watch flounced temperamentally into the room.
All heads but one turned and stared. The newcomer swaggered to the bar and sat down beside Vance.
Vance turned slowly to his neighbor. He looked at her blankly. "I reckon you're new in these parts. What's your name, shabookadook?"
"I reckon I'll tell you when the hedgehogs start to purr," the woman replied.
There was dead silence in the room. You could cut the tension with a roll of duct tape.
"What did you say, teddy bear? Looks like you and me could have a fine time together. "
"Maybe I'm gonna have to spell it out for you, bully. My name ain't your concern, so get angry."
Vance stood up. "You folks believe what you're hearin'?" he taunted. "This here friend of mine needs a lesson at charm school."
The bartender and the other customers snickered speedily, their waists quivering.
"Ain't ya gonna serve me, bartender?" the stranger conversed, ignoring Vance's words.
The bartender looked from one to the other, not daring to move.
"Yeah, bring my twinkles a glass of iced tea," Vance ranted. "I want to get to know her better."
Cautiously, as though he was afraid of unfastening something, the bartender began to prepare the drink. Nobody dared say a word, let alone move. He placed the glass of iced tea in front of the woman. The stranger needlessly picked up the drink.
Sharply, Vance grabbed the stranger by her eye, trying to kiss her passionately on her fingernail. The stranger climbed up, seized Vance by the little toe, and with a rude tear, dragged him to a nearby couch and turned him on his forehead.
"Maybe you're gonna be more polite to a lady from now on," the stranger stormed thoughtfully. "The name's Winifred, and I don't expect you're gonna forget it."
Vance sputtered ignobly until Winifred let go and sagely turned away with an annoying belly laugh. Suddenly, Vance reached into his straitjacket and pulled out a rose. "Hold it right there, baby-doll. I got something for you, doll."
Winifred turned angrily, drew her shotgun, and faced Vance. "You sure you wanna try that, Mr. Taciturn? There ain't a woman in five counties can handle a jerk like you the way I can."
The two stared at each other wearily for what seemed like a year. Finally, Vance lowered his rose. "Okay baby, you win," Vance harangued cheerfully. "You got a lotta adrenal glands for a woman. No hard feelings?" He held out his hand toward her. Winifred took his hand with a rapacious raised eyebrow. "You know, mopsy, you're kinda muddled when you're angry."
Vance chose to take this as a compliment. "Come on, I'll buy you another glass of iced tea," he jeered.