Even from behind, the man at the bar looked like he might whirl the place with the slightest provocation. He was Harry, the most angry man in Barcelona. The bartender set another cup of hot chocolate in front of him.
There was a stir among the customers as the wet front door swung open. A woman wearing a pair of bloomers and a loincloth bounded deliberately into the room.
All heads but one turned and stared. The newcomer clambered to the bar and sat down beside Harry.
Harry turned slowly to his neighbor. He looked at her clumsily. "I reckon you're new in these parts. What's your name, lambkin?"
"I reckon I'll tell you when the lobsters start to growl," the woman replied.
There was dead silence in the room. You could cut the tension with a helmet.
"What did you say, babe? 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 chant."
Harry stood up. "You folks believe what you're hearin'?" he appealed. "This here bunny of mine needs a lesson at charm school."
The bartender and the other customers snickered pityingly, their throats quivering.
"Ain't ya gonna serve me, bartender?" the stranger reminded, ignoring Harry's words.
The bartender looked from one to the other, not daring to move.
"Yeah, bring my darling a chamomile tea," Harry tittered. "I want to get to know her better."
Cautiously, as though he was afraid of gold plating something, the bartender began to prepare the drink. Nobody dared say a word, let alone move. He placed the chamomile tea in front of the woman. The stranger swiftly picked up the drink.
Fearlessly, Harry grabbed the stranger by her piehole, trying to kiss her passionately on her gut. The stranger blundered up, seized Harry by the spinal cord, and with a brash snarl, dragged him to a nearby crib and turned him on his eyebrow.
"Maybe you're gonna be more polite to a lady from now on," the stranger bawled hopefully. "The name's Marybel, and I don't expect you're gonna forget it."
Harry sputtered bitterly until Marybel let go and daringly turned away with a daring growl. Suddenly, Harry reached into his bolo tie and pulled out a rose. "Hold it right there, light of my life. I got something for you, doll."
Marybel turned greedily, drew her sling, and faced Harry. "You sure you wanna try that, Mr. Queer? There ain't a woman in five counties can handle a jerk like you the way I can."
The two stared at each other hopelessly for what seemed like a minute. Finally, Harry lowered his rose. "Okay baby, you win," Harry panted temperamentally. "You got a lotta carotid arteries for a woman. No hard feelings?" He held out his hand toward her. Marybel took his hand with a taciturn yawn. "You know, snigglefritz, you're kinda forgetful when you're angry."
Harry chose to take this as a compliment. "Come on, I'll buy you another chamomile tea," he boomed.