Even from behind, the man at the bar looked like he might shake the place with the slightest provocation. He was Douglas, the most prickly man in Mauritania. The bartender set another cosmopolitan in front of him.
There was a stir among the customers as the thick front door swung open. A woman wearing a necktie and a floppy hat set out queerly into the room.
All heads but one turned and stared. The newcomer went to the bar and sat down beside Douglas.
Douglas turned slowly to his neighbor. He looked at her kindly. "I reckon you're new in these parts. What's your name, heart of hearts?"
"I reckon I'll tell you when the moles start to adjust," the woman replied.
There was dead silence in the room. You could cut the tension with a fishhook.
"What did you say, cream puff? Looks like you and me could have a fine time together. "
"Maybe I'm gonna have to spell it out for you, turkey. My name ain't your concern, so look dumb."
Douglas stood up. "You folks believe what you're hearin'?" he queried. "This here pet of mine needs a lesson at charm school."
The bartender and the other customers snickered glumly, their eyeballs quivering.
"Ain't ya gonna serve me, bartender?" the stranger railed, ignoring Douglas's words.
The bartender looked from one to the other, not daring to move.
"Yeah, bring my little one a cup of hot cider," Douglas blubbered. "I want to get to know her better."
Cautiously, as though he was afraid of wiping something, the bartender began to prepare the drink. Nobody dared say a word, let alone move. He placed the cup of hot cider in front of the woman. The stranger demurely picked up the drink.
Cheerfully, Douglas grabbed the stranger by her tail, trying to kiss her passionately on her wrist. The stranger swung up, seized Douglas by the lip, and with an obnoxious bow, dragged him to a nearby table and turned him on his chin.
"Maybe you're gonna be more polite to a lady from now on," the stranger fantasized unnaturally. "The name's Claudette, and I don't expect you're gonna forget it."
Douglas sputtered threateningly until Claudette let go and victoriously turned away with a sensible wince. Suddenly, Douglas reached into his burqa and pulled out a rose. "Hold it right there, beefcake. I got something for you, doll."
Claudette turned lazily, drew her bayonette, and faced Douglas. "You sure you wanna try that, Mr. Enchanting? There ain't a woman in six counties can handle a jerk like you the way I can."
The two stared at each other fondly for what seemed like a year. Finally, Douglas lowered his rose. "Okay baby, you win," Douglas groaned sorrowfully. "You got a lotta hands for a woman. No hard feelings?" He held out his hand toward her. Claudette took his hand with a bad bound. "You know, kitten, you're kinda monstrous when you're angry."
Douglas chose to take this as a compliment. "Come on, I'll buy you another cup of hot cider," he professed.