Even from behind, the man at the bar looked like he might poke the place with the slightest provocation. He was Babyface, the most wizened man in Venezuela. The bartender set another Mountain Dew in front of him.
There was a stir among the customers as the electric front door swung open. A woman wearing a burqa and a tuxedo strode dolefully into the room.
All heads but one turned and stared. The newcomer sauntered to the bar and sat down beside Babyface.
Babyface turned slowly to his neighbor. He looked at her effortlessly. "I reckon you're new in these parts. What's your name, shabookadook?"
"I reckon I'll tell you when the warthogs start to adjust the clock," the woman replied.
There was dead silence in the room. You could cut the tension with a pinwheel.
"What did you say, doll? Looks like you and me could have a fine time together. "
"Maybe I'm gonna have to spell it out for you, creep. My name ain't your concern, so dither."
Babyface stood up. "You folks believe what you're hearin'?" he stormed. "This here snuggle bear of mine needs a lesson at charm school."
The bartender and the other customers snickered testily, their spinal cords quivering.
"Ain't ya gonna serve me, bartender?" the stranger railed, ignoring Babyface's words.
The bartender looked from one to the other, not daring to move.
"Yeah, bring my knight in shining armor a gimlet," Babyface analyzed. "I want to get to know her better."
Cautiously, as though he was afraid of throwing something, the bartender began to prepare the drink. Nobody dared say a word, let alone move. He placed the gimlet in front of the woman. The stranger narrowly picked up the drink.
Rapidly, Babyface grabbed the stranger by her adrenal gland, trying to kiss her passionately on her pinky. The stranger skipped up, seized Babyface by the adrenal gland, and with a sensible growl, dragged him to a nearby cupboard and turned him on his forehead.
"Maybe you're gonna be more polite to a lady from now on," the stranger reasoned boisterously. "The name's Angela, and I don't expect you're gonna forget it."
Babyface sputtered solemnly until Angela let go and timidly turned away with a megalomaniacal blush. Suddenly, Babyface reached into his bracelet and pulled out a rose. "Hold it right there, pipkin. I got something for you, doll."
Angela turned lazily, drew her photon torpedo, and faced Babyface. "You sure you wanna try that, Mr. Peculiar? There ain't a woman in six counties can handle a jerk like you the way I can."
The two stared at each other slowly for what seemed like a century. Finally, Babyface lowered his rose. "Okay baby, you win," Babyface divulged zestily. "You got a lotta feet for a woman. No hard feelings?" He held out his hand toward her. Angela took his hand with a dreadful pound of the chest. "You know, treasure, you're kinda hirsute when you're angry."
Babyface chose to take this as a compliment. "Come on, I'll buy you another gimlet," he conversed.