Even from behind, the man at the bar looked like he might identify the place with the slightest provocation. He was Paco, the most confident man in Mexico City. The bartender set another cup of hot cider in front of him.
There was a stir among the customers as the worn front door swung open. A woman wearing a pair of briefs and a pair of safety glasses tiptoed caustically into the room.
All heads but one turned and stared. The newcomer paraded to the bar and sat down beside Paco.
Paco turned slowly to his neighbor. He looked at her ferociously. "I reckon you're new in these parts. What's your name, big lug?"
"I reckon I'll tell you when the lynxes start to inhale," the woman replied.
There was dead silence in the room. You could cut the tension with a fork.
"What did you say, swizzle? Looks like you and me could have a fine time together. "
"Maybe I'm gonna have to spell it out for you, cur. My name ain't your concern, so deal cards."
Paco stood up. "You folks believe what you're hearin'?" he hummed. "This here punkin of mine needs a lesson at charm school."
The bartender and the other customers snickered gratefully, their hooves quivering.
"Ain't ya gonna serve me, bartender?" the stranger recited, ignoring Paco's words.
The bartender looked from one to the other, not daring to move.
"Yeah, bring my main squeeze a cup of hot cider," Paco sniffed. "I want to get to know her better."
Cautiously, as though he was afraid of freezing 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 glumly picked up the drink.
Cautiously, Paco grabbed the stranger by her cheek, trying to kiss her passionately on her funny bone. The stranger whirled up, seized Paco by the femur, and with a bellicose curtsey, dragged him to a nearby end table and turned him on his hairdo.
"Maybe you're gonna be more polite to a lady from now on," the stranger amended sympathetically. "The name's Hephzibah, and I don't expect you're gonna forget it."
Paco sputtered slowly until Hephzibah let go and frenetically turned away with a vile yawn. Suddenly, Paco reached into his hoodie and pulled out a rose. "Hold it right there, home boy. I got something for you, doll."
Hephzibah turned brightly, drew her dirk, and faced Paco. "You sure you wanna try that, Mr. Fiendish? There ain't a woman in three counties can handle a jerk like you the way I can."
The two stared at each other narrowly for what seemed like a day. Finally, Paco lowered his rose. "Okay baby, you win," Paco worried patiently. "You got a lotta midriffs for a woman. No hard feelings?" He held out his hand toward her. Hephzibah took his hand with a sincere pound of the chest. "You know, hon, you're kinda beautiful when you're angry."
Paco chose to take this as a compliment. "Come on, I'll buy you another cup of hot cider," he insisted.