Spam Haiku Story

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What can I do?
Her words are Greek to me.
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"U bent leuk maar dwaas!" She says, smiling and laughing with her eyes.

"Can I buy you a drink?" I ask her, lifting my glass to my lips, then tilting it towards her, hoping she'll understand.

"Oh, zal u nu advatage van me nemen!" She says, as she frowns.

She doesn't understand, I must have given her the wrong idea.

I pull out my trusty pocket paperback translator, determined to try to communicate before I lose her. I hastily cobble together a sentence that I hope will convey my intentions: "Ik bedoel geen kwaad, houd van ik u houd van de zuster van mijn broer bij kerk!" I plead.

"Dwaze Amerikaan!" she says, looking annoyed with me.

She turns away and walks out of the cafe, the figure of a Dutch goddess beneath her white linen dress. I hate to see her leave, but I love to watch her go... Better luck next time, I suppose.

I ask the bartender for a refill.

A dark-haired Spanish beauty in a tight red dress strolls in. I catch her eye. "Can I buy you a drink?" I ask, motioning with my glass.

"Quizás, si usted es agradable..." She says.

Uh oh, here we go again...