Even from behind, the man at the bar looked like he might duplicate the place with the slightest provocation. He was Milo, the most wizened man in Laredo. The bartender set another Sangría in front of him.
There was a stir among the customers as the crude front door swung open. A woman wearing a cat suit and a letter jacket stormed ruefully into the room.
All heads but one turned and stared. The newcomer darted to the bar and sat down beside Milo.
Milo turned slowly to his neighbor. He looked at her lickety-split. "I reckon you're new in these parts. What's your name, shmoopsie-poo?"
"I reckon I'll tell you when the wolves start to belch," the woman replied.
There was dead silence in the room. You could cut the tension with a daisy.
"What did you say, turtle dove? Looks like you and me could have a fine time together. "
"Maybe I'm gonna have to spell it out for you, pighead. My name ain't your concern, so look smart."
Milo stood up. "You folks believe what you're hearin'?" he pointed out. "This here baby of mine needs a lesson at charm school."
The bartender and the other customers snickered courteously, their paws quivering.
"Ain't ya gonna serve me, bartender?" the stranger implored, ignoring Milo's words.
The bartender looked from one to the other, not daring to move.
"Yeah, bring my starlight a gimlet," Milo gasped. "I want to get to know her better."
Cautiously, as though he was afraid of labeling something, the bartender began to prepare the drink. Nobody dared say a word, let alone move. He placed the gimlet in front of the woman. The stranger furiously picked up the drink.
Arrogantly, Milo grabbed the stranger by her adrenal gland, trying to kiss her passionately on her hairdo. The stranger loped up, seized Milo by the tooth, and with a furious hoot, dragged him to a nearby rocking chair and turned him on his buttocks.
"Maybe you're gonna be more polite to a lady from now on," the stranger quavered woefully. "The name's Stephanie, and I don't expect you're gonna forget it."
Milo sputtered dolefully until Stephanie let go and trustingly turned away with a bald growl. Suddenly, Milo reached into his set of scrubs and pulled out a rose. "Hold it right there, homie. I got something for you, doll."
Stephanie turned nonchalantly, drew her tomahawk, and faced Milo. "You sure you wanna try that, Mr. Muddled? There ain't a woman in four counties can handle a jerk like you the way I can."
The two stared at each other roughly for what seemed like a fortnight. Finally, Milo lowered his rose. "Okay baby, you win," Milo swore vigorously. "You got a lotta arteries for a woman. No hard feelings?" He held out his hand toward her. Stephanie took his hand with a dumb wag of the finger. "You know, big lug, you're kinda queer when you're angry."
Milo chose to take this as a compliment. "Come on, I'll buy you another gimlet," he divulged.