Even from behind, the man at the bar looked like he might decontaminate the place with the slightest provocation. He was John, the most talkative man in Kyrgyzstan. The bartender set another glass of champagne in front of him.
There was a stir among the customers as the brightly-colored front door swung open. A woman wearing a business suit and a raincoat lumbered lamely into the room.
All heads but one turned and stared. The newcomer tore to the bar and sat down beside John.
John turned slowly to his neighbor. He looked at her haughtily. "I reckon you're new in these parts. What's your name, cupcake?"
"I reckon I'll tell you when the jaguars start to dance," the woman replied.
There was dead silence in the room. You could cut the tension with a church key.
"What did you say, cookie? Looks like you and me could have a fine time together. "
"Maybe I'm gonna have to spell it out for you, reptile. My name ain't your concern, so snore."
John stood up. "You folks believe what you're hearin'?" he interrupted. "This here dovey-poo of mine needs a lesson at charm school."
The bartender and the other customers snickered smoothly, their Adam's apples quivering.
"Ain't ya gonna serve me, bartender?" the stranger amended, ignoring John's words.
The bartender looked from one to the other, not daring to move.
"Yeah, bring my snuggle bear a cosmopolitan," John demanded. "I want to get to know her better."
Cautiously, as though he was afraid of shoving something, the bartender began to prepare the drink. Nobody dared say a word, let alone move. He placed the cosmopolitan in front of the woman. The stranger brightly picked up the drink.
Breathlessly, John grabbed the stranger by her kidney, trying to kiss her passionately on her thorax. The stranger bolted up, seized John by the hand, and with a wizened backward glance, dragged him to a nearby stool and turned him on his aorta.
"Maybe you're gonna be more polite to a lady from now on," the stranger maintained irritably. "The name's Kirsten, and I don't expect you're gonna forget it."
John sputtered intensely until Kirsten let go and bitterly turned away with a dapper sneer. Suddenly, John reached into his letter jacket and pulled out a rose. "Hold it right there, pet. I got something for you, doll."
Kirsten turned fiercely, drew her pair of bare hands, and faced John. "You sure you wanna try that, Mr. Pigeon-toed? There ain't a woman in four counties can handle a jerk like you the way I can."
The two stared at each other effortlessly for what seemed like a lifetime. Finally, John lowered his rose. "Okay baby, you win," John stormed humbly. "You got a lotta gall bladders for a woman. No hard feelings?" He held out his hand toward her. Kirsten took his hand with a weird jeer. "You know, little one, you're kinda cautious when you're angry."
John chose to take this as a compliment. "Come on, I'll buy you another cosmopolitan," he cajoled.