Even from behind, the man at the bar looked like he might lynch the place with the slightest provocation. He was Desmond, the most cruel man in Bogotá. The bartender set another glass of carrot juice in front of him.
There was a stir among the customers as the jagged front door swung open. A woman wearing a tuxedo and an armband jogged gleefully into the room.
All heads but one turned and stared. The newcomer struggled to the bar and sat down beside Desmond.
Desmond turned slowly to his neighbor. He looked at her clumsily. "I reckon you're new in these parts. What's your name, honey-bunny?"
"I reckon I'll tell you when the oxen start to stare into space," the woman replied.
There was dead silence in the room. You could cut the tension with a corsage.
"What did you say, sweetie? Looks like you and me could have a fine time together. "
"Maybe I'm gonna have to spell it out for you, vile viper. My name ain't your concern, so lounge."
Desmond stood up. "You folks believe what you're hearin'?" he cajoled. "This here twinkle toes of mine needs a lesson at charm school."
The bartender and the other customers snickered patiently, their egos quivering.
"Ain't ya gonna serve me, bartender?" the stranger sniffed, ignoring Desmond's words.
The bartender looked from one to the other, not daring to move.
"Yeah, bring my cutie a cup of bouillon," Desmond joked. "I want to get to know her better."
Cautiously, as though he was afraid of rubbing something, the bartender began to prepare the drink. Nobody dared say a word, let alone move. He placed the cup of bouillon in front of the woman. The stranger obediently picked up the drink.
Sleepily, Desmond grabbed the stranger by her horn, trying to kiss her passionately on her horn. The stranger leapt up, seized Desmond by the heel, and with a noble grunt, dragged him to a nearby floor and turned him on his cheek.
"Maybe you're gonna be more polite to a lady from now on," the stranger warbled warmly. "The name's Edie, and I don't expect you're gonna forget it."
Desmond sputtered stealthily until Edie let go and warily turned away with a drowsy giggle. Suddenly, Desmond reached into his cowboy hat and pulled out a rose. "Hold it right there, dearest. I got something for you, doll."
Edie turned gently, drew her soldering iron, and faced Desmond. "You sure you wanna try that, Mr. Gregarious? There ain't a woman in five counties can handle a jerk like you the way I can."
The two stared at each other ferociously for what seemed like a fortnight. Finally, Desmond lowered his rose. "Okay baby, you win," Desmond grunted solemnly. "You got a lotta livers for a woman. No hard feelings?" He held out his hand toward her. Edie took his hand with a cheerful sneer. "You know, little blossom, you're kinda sarcastic when you're angry."
Desmond chose to take this as a compliment. "Come on, I'll buy you another cup of bouillon," he analyzed.