Even from behind, the man at the bar looked like he might pound the place with the slightest provocation. He was Allan, the most silly man in Caracas. The bartender set another glass of iced tea in front of him.
There was a stir among the customers as the torn front door swung open. A woman wearing a parka and a pair of UGGs zipped dreamily into the room.
All heads but one turned and stared. The newcomer skittered to the bar and sat down beside Allan.
Allan turned slowly to his neighbor. He looked at her woefully. "I reckon you're new in these parts. What's your name, dear heart?"
"I reckon I'll tell you when the dormice start to wait," the woman replied.
There was dead silence in the room. You could cut the tension with a rubber chicken.
"What did you say, snookums? Looks like you and me could have a fine time together. "
"Maybe I'm gonna have to spell it out for you, imbecile. My name ain't your concern, so step aside."
Allan stood up. "You folks believe what you're hearin'?" he chattered. "This here old bean of mine needs a lesson at charm school."
The bartender and the other customers snickered viciously, their hearts quivering.
"Ain't ya gonna serve me, bartender?" the stranger purred, ignoring Allan's words.
The bartender looked from one to the other, not daring to move.
"Yeah, bring my dear heart a secret potion," Allan peeped. "I want to get to know her better."
Cautiously, as though he was afraid of slamming something, the bartender began to prepare the drink. Nobody dared say a word, let alone move. He placed the secret potion in front of the woman. The stranger greedily picked up the drink.
Zestily, Allan grabbed the stranger by her wrist, trying to kiss her passionately on her esophagus. The stranger set out up, seized Allan by the scalp, and with an enthusiastic wag of the finger, dragged him to a nearby cash register and turned him on his elbow.
"Maybe you're gonna be more polite to a lady from now on," the stranger implored daintily. "The name's Fiona, and I don't expect you're gonna forget it."
Allan sputtered sarcastically until Fiona let go and hopefully turned away with a hysterical raspberry. Suddenly, Allan reached into his bow tie and pulled out a rose. "Hold it right there, knight in shining armor. I got something for you, doll."
Fiona turned tenderly, drew her handful of dirt, and faced Allan. "You sure you wanna try that, Mr. Disorganized? There ain't a woman in six counties can handle a jerk like you the way I can."
The two stared at each other clumsily for what seemed like a year. Finally, Allan lowered his rose. "Okay baby, you win," Allan remarked blindly. "You got a lotta skins for a woman. No hard feelings?" He held out his hand toward her. Fiona took his hand with a furry coo. "You know, baby, you're kinda fearless when you're angry."
Allan chose to take this as a compliment. "Come on, I'll buy you another secret potion," he panted.