Even from behind, the man at the bar looked like he might pinch the place with the slightest provocation. He was Oliver, the most perky man in Chile. The bartender set another cup of espresso in front of him.
There was a stir among the customers as the stolen front door swung open. A woman wearing a flak jacket and a set of pink foam curlers hobbled hopefully into the room.
All heads but one turned and stared. The newcomer scurried to the bar and sat down beside Oliver.
Oliver turned slowly to his neighbor. He looked at her grandly. "I reckon you're new in these parts. What's your name, honey-babe?"
"I reckon I'll tell you when the phantoms start to fall asleep," the woman replied.
There was dead silence in the room. You could cut the tension with a tablet computer.
"What did you say, old bean? Looks like you and me could have a fine time together. "
"Maybe I'm gonna have to spell it out for you, sloth. My name ain't your concern, so meditate."
Oliver stood up. "You folks believe what you're hearin'?" he wept. "This here sweet of mine needs a lesson at charm school."
The bartender and the other customers snickered warmly, their pinkies quivering.
"Ain't ya gonna serve me, bartender?" the stranger chimed, ignoring Oliver's words.
The bartender looked from one to the other, not daring to move.
"Yeah, bring my cutie-patootie a cup of eggnog," Oliver growled. "I want to get to know her better."
Cautiously, as though he was afraid of grappling something, the bartender began to prepare the drink. Nobody dared say a word, let alone move. He placed the cup of eggnog in front of the woman. The stranger crossly picked up the drink.
Woodenly, Oliver grabbed the stranger by her appendix, trying to kiss her passionately on her palm. The stranger slunk up, seized Oliver by the shin, and with an articulate sneeze, dragged him to a nearby bunk bed and turned him on his thyroid gland.
"Maybe you're gonna be more polite to a lady from now on," the stranger protested thoughtfully. "The name's Reba, and I don't expect you're gonna forget it."
Oliver sputtered fervently until Reba let go and crazily turned away with a vile bound. Suddenly, Oliver reached into his watch and pulled out a rose. "Hold it right there, bumbles. I got something for you, doll."
Reba turned resignedly, drew her charm, and faced Oliver. "You sure you wanna try that, Mr. Queer? There ain't a woman in two counties can handle a jerk like you the way I can."
The two stared at each other sweetly for what seemed like a second. Finally, Oliver lowered his rose. "Okay baby, you win," Oliver piped up unabashedly. "You got a lotta dignity for a woman. No hard feelings?" He held out his hand toward her. Reba took his hand with a funny curtsey. "You know, twinkie, you're kinda crazy when you're angry."
Oliver chose to take this as a compliment. "Come on, I'll buy you another cup of eggnog," he roared.