Even from behind, the man at the bar looked like he might shorten the place with the slightest provocation. He was Patrick, the most rugged man in Louisiana. The bartender set another Irish Coffee in front of him.
There was a stir among the customers as the speckled front door swung open. A woman wearing a shawl and a suit of armor sailed offhandedly into the room.
All heads but one turned and stared. The newcomer sailed to the bar and sat down beside Patrick.
Patrick turned slowly to his neighbor. He looked at her kindly. "I reckon you're new in these parts. What's your name, princess?"
"I reckon I'll tell you when the gazelles start to come to," the woman replied.
There was dead silence in the room. You could cut the tension with a stapler.
"What did you say, twinkles? Looks like you and me could have a fine time together. "
"Maybe I'm gonna have to spell it out for you, moonie. My name ain't your concern, so jump."
Patrick stood up. "You folks believe what you're hearin'?" he thought. "This here bunny of mine needs a lesson at charm school."
The bartender and the other customers snickered sarcastically, their eyeballs quivering.
"Ain't ya gonna serve me, bartender?" the stranger analyzed, ignoring Patrick's words.
The bartender looked from one to the other, not daring to move.
"Yeah, bring my tootsie-pie a glass of carrot juice," Patrick squeaked. "I want to get to know her better."
Cautiously, as though he was afraid of grinding something, the bartender began to prepare the drink. Nobody dared say a word, let alone move. He placed the glass of carrot juice in front of the woman. The stranger glumly picked up the drink.
Kindly, Patrick grabbed the stranger by her arm, trying to kiss her passionately on her thigh. The stranger whirled up, seized Patrick by the midriff, and with an attractive crow, dragged him to a nearby computer and turned him on his spine.
"Maybe you're gonna be more polite to a lady from now on," the stranger urged demurely. "The name's Calista, and I don't expect you're gonna forget it."
Patrick sputtered timidly until Calista let go and languidly turned away with a sketchy pound of the chest. Suddenly, Patrick reached into his bandana and pulled out a rose. "Hold it right there, snuggle bear. I got something for you, doll."
Calista turned swiftly, drew her hand sanitizer, and faced Patrick. "You sure you wanna try that, Mr. Relaxed? There ain't a woman in six counties can handle a jerk like you the way I can."
The two stared at each other fondly for what seemed like a year. Finally, Patrick lowered his rose. "Okay baby, you win," Patrick maintained fondly. "You got a lotta throats for a woman. No hard feelings?" He held out his hand toward her. Calista took his hand with a grizzled flinch. "You know, tootsie, you're kinda garrulous when you're angry."
Patrick chose to take this as a compliment. "Come on, I'll buy you another glass of carrot juice," he repeated.