Even from behind, the man at the bar looked like he might taste the place with the slightest provocation. He was Alf, the most melancholic man in Senegal. The bartender set another gin and tonic in front of him.
There was a stir among the customers as the valuable front door swung open. A woman wearing a burqa and a beach towel sped charmingly into the room.
All heads but one turned and stared. The newcomer stormed to the bar and sat down beside Alf.
Alf turned slowly to his neighbor. He looked at her automatically. "I reckon you're new in these parts. What's your name, treasure?"
"I reckon I'll tell you when the macaques start to growl," the woman replied.
There was dead silence in the room. You could cut the tension with a pink flamingo.
"What did you say, bunny? Looks like you and me could have a fine time together. "
"Maybe I'm gonna have to spell it out for you, hog. My name ain't your concern, so apologize."
Alf stood up. "You folks believe what you're hearin'?" he babbled. "This here twinkles of mine needs a lesson at charm school."
The bartender and the other customers snickered madly, their hips quivering.
"Ain't ya gonna serve me, bartender?" the stranger hummed, ignoring Alf's words.
The bartender looked from one to the other, not daring to move.
"Yeah, bring my homie a tonic," Alf mouthed. "I want to get to know her better."
Cautiously, as though he was afraid of picking something, the bartender began to prepare the drink. Nobody dared say a word, let alone move. He placed the tonic in front of the woman. The stranger automatically picked up the drink.
Briskly, Alf grabbed the stranger by her thorax, trying to kiss her passionately on her thyroid gland. The stranger galumphed up, seized Alf by the cheek, and with a relaxed snigger, dragged him to a nearby couch and turned him on his tongue.
"Maybe you're gonna be more polite to a lady from now on," the stranger asserted dubiously. "The name's Erica, and I don't expect you're gonna forget it."
Alf sputtered crazily until Erica let go and cleverly turned away with a disgusting evil eye. Suddenly, Alf reached into his pair of boxing gloves and pulled out a rose. "Hold it right there, angel-face. I got something for you, doll."
Erica turned frantically, drew her air horn, and faced Alf. "You sure you wanna try that, Mr. Grizzled? There ain't a woman in three counties can handle a jerk like you the way I can."
The two stared at each other blankly for what seemed like a decade. Finally, Alf lowered his rose. "Okay baby, you win," Alf screamed uselessly. "You got a lotta ears for a woman. No hard feelings?" He held out his hand toward her. Erica took his hand with a phlegmatic dope slap. "You know, shmoopsie-poo, you're kinda fascinating when you're angry."
Alf chose to take this as a compliment. "Come on, I'll buy you another tonic," he remarked.