The Glork, suddenly overcome with confusing feelings, staggers backwards. If you look closely, you may notice that it is blushing.
"A pedicure?" it stammers, "well... if those are your demands...." a drop of sweat rolls down the side of its face.
As the cowboy sits on a stool at the bar, the Glork, kneeling at his feet, gently removes the cowboy's boots. Breathing heavily, hands trembling, he begins to paint the cowboy's toenails.