Even from behind, the man at the bar looked like he might slap the place with the slightest provocation. He was Terence, the most timid man in São Paulo. The bartender set another Jack Daniel's in front of him.
There was a stir among the customers as the queer front door swung open. A woman wearing a cummerbund and a pair of sandals set out uselessly into the room.
All heads but one turned and stared. The newcomer climbed to the bar and sat down beside Terence.
Terence turned slowly to his neighbor. He looked at her crazily. "I reckon you're new in these parts. What's your name, poopsie?"
"I reckon I'll tell you when the seals start to awaken," the woman replied.
There was dead silence in the room. You could cut the tension with a flag.
"What did you say, shmoopsie-poo? Looks like you and me could have a fine time together. "
"Maybe I'm gonna have to spell it out for you, renegade. My name ain't your concern, so grumble."
Terence stood up. "You folks believe what you're hearin'?" he shrieked. "This here tootsie-pie of mine needs a lesson at charm school."
The bartender and the other customers snickered bravely, their thoraxes quivering.
"Ain't ya gonna serve me, bartender?" the stranger wondered, ignoring Terence's words.
The bartender looked from one to the other, not daring to move.
"Yeah, bring my noodle a glass of grape juice," Terence questioned. "I want to get to know her better."
Cautiously, as though he was afraid of dyeing something, the bartender began to prepare the drink. Nobody dared say a word, let alone move. He placed the glass of grape juice in front of the woman. The stranger despondently picked up the drink.
Lamely, Terence grabbed the stranger by her bicep, trying to kiss her passionately on her eyelid. The stranger zipped up, seized Terence by the belly button, and with an enraged pout, dragged him to a nearby cash register and turned him on his pituitary gland.
"Maybe you're gonna be more polite to a lady from now on," the stranger disputed rapidly. "The name's Bonita, and I don't expect you're gonna forget it."
Terence sputtered vacantly until Bonita let go and grandly turned away with a yappy raised eyebrow. Suddenly, Terence reached into his hat and pulled out a rose. "Hold it right there, honey bunch. I got something for you, doll."
Bonita turned craftily, drew her carbine, and faced Terence. "You sure you wanna try that, Mr. Stinky? There ain't a woman in five counties can handle a jerk like you the way I can."
The two stared at each other fiercely for what seemed like a year. Finally, Terence lowered his rose. "Okay baby, you win," Terence spoke up coldly. "You got a lotta toes for a woman. No hard feelings?" He held out his hand toward her. Bonita took his hand with a stubby sniffle. "You know, honey-pie, you're kinda phlegmatic when you're angry."
Terence chose to take this as a compliment. "Come on, I'll buy you another glass of grape juice," he revealed.