"Hola," said the stanger. He coughed in his own dust. The hat, worn tilted down, hid his face. She sat down across the table from him. "This is the night for the Tickle Game."

"No," she said.

"Oh yes, mama," he said. He drank from a short glass of yellow liquor, "You will tickle them." He spun her around. She saw friends laughing. "Get up and say," he whispered, "Hi!" He nudged her up and forward.

She walked the twenty paces to the low booth tables.

"Wait wait wait," Juan grabbed her shoulder, "Here." He handed her the short glass. She sipped. His hand wrapped around hers and taught her how to drink properly. She gulped fire, but the glass was near full. Agai, the hand lead her to drink. The glass stayed full.

"My ----ing ---- itches," she said to the ladies. They laughed. Her friends drank to her ----. "Yeah, ladies," she said, "This one's for my ----." A group of gentlemen tunred. "Hey, here's to your -----, guys," she said. The women cackled. "Who's got a ----ing ---- that I haven't drank out of?" she shouted. The men looked away.

"Whoa," she said to their backs, "A girl can't say ---- in a bar full of drunken --------? You boys know you want to hear it. You make us say it when you ---- us." The girls were rioting with laughter.

"It's so true," Juan said.

"Hey, I can get them to turn around," she said. The gentlemen left after her display. "What are you three, some sort of ----?" One of the men protested in a heavy slavic or greek accent. Yeah, get out you ----. You can't handle this ----." One of the ladies laughed hard and stopped. Her face went blank and then she ran to the bathroom. Juan folded his arms and nodded.

"What happened, girl?" she called after her. But she knew. It happened everytime she played the Tickling Game