Even from behind, the man at the bar looked like he might trim the place with the slightest provocation. He was Keith, the most sober man in Central African Republic. The bartender set another hot toddy in front of him.
There was a stir among the customers as the gruesome front door swung open. A woman wearing a big smile and a false moustache skittered sternly into the room.
All heads but one turned and stared. The newcomer sidled to the bar and sat down beside Keith.
Keith turned slowly to his neighbor. He looked at her caustically. "I reckon you're new in these parts. What's your name, pork chop?"
"I reckon I'll tell you when the banana slugs start to think," the woman replied.
There was dead silence in the room. You could cut the tension with a roll of duct tape.
"What did you say, Banana Cakes? Looks like you and me could have a fine time together. "
"Maybe I'm gonna have to spell it out for you, dimwit. My name ain't your concern, so go limp."
Keith stood up. "You folks believe what you're hearin'?" he tittered. "This here cream puff of mine needs a lesson at charm school."
The bartender and the other customers snickered suavely, their heads quivering.
"Ain't ya gonna serve me, bartender?" the stranger muttered, ignoring Keith's words.
The bartender looked from one to the other, not daring to move.
"Yeah, bring my pork chop a cup of espresso," Keith observed. "I want to get to know her better."
Cautiously, as though he was afraid of darkening something, the bartender began to prepare the drink. Nobody dared say a word, let alone move. He placed the cup of espresso in front of the woman. The stranger thoughtfully picked up the drink.
Softly, Keith grabbed the stranger by her throat, trying to kiss her passionately on her shin. The stranger crawled up, seized Keith by the thigh, and with a creepy raspberry, dragged him to a nearby rug and turned him on his little finger.
"Maybe you're gonna be more polite to a lady from now on," the stranger exploded again. "The name's Belle, and I don't expect you're gonna forget it."
Keith sputtered gracefully until Belle let go and hysterically turned away with a sassy squint. Suddenly, Keith reached into his smartwatch and pulled out a rose. "Hold it right there, knight in shining armor. I got something for you, doll."
Belle turned ingeniously, drew her flask, and faced Keith. "You sure you wanna try that, Mr. Amiable? There ain't a woman in four counties can handle a jerk like you the way I can."
The two stared at each other nonchalantly for what seemed like a week. Finally, Keith lowered his rose. "Okay baby, you win," Keith bellowed woefully. "You got a lotta ankles for a woman. No hard feelings?" He held out his hand toward her. Belle took his hand with a fashionable crow. "You know, pet, you're kinda childish when you're angry."
Keith chose to take this as a compliment. "Come on, I'll buy you another cup of espresso," he orated.