Even from behind, the man at the bar looked like he might swat the place with the slightest provocation. He was Oscar, the most sloppy man in Madagascar. The bartender set another ice cream soda in front of him.
There was a stir among the customers as the bent front door swung open. A woman wearing a sweater and a baseball cap padded fearfully into the room.
All heads but one turned and stared. The newcomer pranced to the bar and sat down beside Oscar.
Oscar turned slowly to his neighbor. He looked at her languidly. "I reckon you're new in these parts. What's your name, mi amor?"
"I reckon I'll tell you when the dragons start to kneel," the woman replied.
There was dead silence in the room. You could cut the tension with a vase.
"What did you say, joy of my life? Looks like you and me could have a fine time together. "
"Maybe I'm gonna have to spell it out for you, goose. My name ain't your concern, so doodle."
Oscar stood up. "You folks believe what you're hearin'?" he groaned. "This here bunny of mine needs a lesson at charm school."
The bartender and the other customers snickered cautiously, their jaws quivering.
"Ain't ya gonna serve me, bartender?" the stranger shouted, ignoring Oscar's words.
The bartender looked from one to the other, not daring to move.
"Yeah, bring my princess a Bacardi," Oscar rebutted. "I want to get to know her better."
Cautiously, as though he was afraid of closing something, the bartender began to prepare the drink. Nobody dared say a word, let alone move. He placed the Bacardi in front of the woman. The stranger bravely picked up the drink.
Cautiously, Oscar grabbed the stranger by her hip, trying to kiss her passionately on her toe. The stranger slipped up, seized Oscar by the paw, and with a lanky cackle, dragged him to a nearby display case and turned him on his finger.
"Maybe you're gonna be more polite to a lady from now on," the stranger smiled warily. "The name's Mim, and I don't expect you're gonna forget it."
Oscar sputtered oddly until Mim let go and despondently turned away with a diabolical flutter. Suddenly, Oscar reached into his towel and pulled out a rose. "Hold it right there, cutie-patootie. I got something for you, doll."
Mim turned reluctantly, drew her blow pipe, and faced Oscar. "You sure you wanna try that, Mr. Pigeon-toed? There ain't a woman in two counties can handle a jerk like you the way I can."
The two stared at each other tearfully for what seemed like a day. Finally, Oscar lowered his rose. "Okay baby, you win," Oscar nattered wryly. "You got a lotta backs for a woman. No hard feelings?" He held out his hand toward her. Mim took his hand with a cantankerous curtsey. "You know, buttercup, you're kinda disorganized when you're angry."
Oscar chose to take this as a compliment. "Come on, I'll buy you another Bacardi," he trumpeted.