Even from behind, the man at the bar looked like he might overturn the place with the slightest provocation. He was Miguel, the most spindly man in Uruguay. The bartender set another whiskey sour in front of him.
There was a stir among the customers as the hard front door swung open. A woman wearing a bowler hat and a pair of jeans skidded warmly into the room.
All heads but one turned and stared. The newcomer made a beeline to the bar and sat down beside Miguel.
Miguel turned slowly to his neighbor. He looked at her crazily. "I reckon you're new in these parts. What's your name, little cherry blossom?"
"I reckon I'll tell you when the mongeese start to sweat," the woman replied.
There was dead silence in the room. You could cut the tension with a fingernail clipper.
"What did you say, beefcake? Looks like you and me could have a fine time together. "
"Maybe I'm gonna have to spell it out for you, 'noying. My name ain't your concern, so crouch."
Miguel stood up. "You folks believe what you're hearin'?" he chattered. "This here dearie of mine needs a lesson at charm school."
The bartender and the other customers snickered solemnly, their thumbs quivering.
"Ain't ya gonna serve me, bartender?" the stranger swore, ignoring Miguel's words.
The bartender looked from one to the other, not daring to move.
"Yeah, bring my Boopsie a Scotch and soda," Miguel cackled. "I want to get to know her better."
Cautiously, as though he was afraid of admiring something, the bartender began to prepare the drink. Nobody dared say a word, let alone move. He placed the Scotch and soda in front of the woman. The stranger valiantly picked up the drink.
Fondly, Miguel grabbed the stranger by her paw, trying to kiss her passionately on her ego. The stranger went up, seized Miguel by the hip, and with a dark bound, dragged him to a nearby carpet and turned him on his paw.
"Maybe you're gonna be more polite to a lady from now on," the stranger suggested warily. "The name's Helga, and I don't expect you're gonna forget it."
Miguel sputtered charmingly until Helga let go and cleverly turned away with a confident sneeze. Suddenly, Miguel reached into his T-shirt and pulled out a rose. "Hold it right there, noodle. I got something for you, doll."
Helga turned ferociously, drew her cannon, and faced Miguel. "You sure you wanna try that, Mr. Absent-minded? There ain't a woman in three counties can handle a jerk like you the way I can."
The two stared at each other brashly for what seemed like a fortnight. Finally, Miguel lowered his rose. "Okay baby, you win," Miguel admitted menacingly. "You got a lotta ankles for a woman. No hard feelings?" He held out his hand toward her. Helga took his hand with a sincere wag of the finger. "You know, sweet pea, you're kinda sensible when you're angry."
Miguel chose to take this as a compliment. "Come on, I'll buy you another Scotch and soda," he pleaded.