Even from behind, the man at the bar looked like he might bend the place with the slightest provocation. He was Sean, the most obnoxious man in Arkansas. The bartender set another cup of hot chocolate in front of him.
There was a stir among the customers as the odd front door swung open. A woman wearing a jacket and a cheerleader's uniform traipsed sleepily into the room.
All heads but one turned and stared. The newcomer careened to the bar and sat down beside Sean.
Sean turned slowly to his neighbor. He looked at her hastily. "I reckon you're new in these parts. What's your name, little chickadee?"
"I reckon I'll tell you when the androids start to back up," the woman replied.
There was dead silence in the room. You could cut the tension with a fire hose.
"What did you say, kitten? Looks like you and me could have a fine time together. "
"Maybe I'm gonna have to spell it out for you, scurvy dog. My name ain't your concern, so run away."
Sean stood up. "You folks believe what you're hearin'?" he queried. "This here big lug of mine needs a lesson at charm school."
The bartender and the other customers snickered cleverly, their legs quivering.
"Ain't ya gonna serve me, bartender?" the stranger lectured, ignoring Sean's words.
The bartender looked from one to the other, not daring to move.
"Yeah, bring my sweet a Shirley Temple," Sean vouched. "I want to get to know her better."
Cautiously, as though he was afraid of seizing something, the bartender began to prepare the drink. Nobody dared say a word, let alone move. He placed the Shirley Temple in front of the woman. The stranger anxiously picked up the drink.
Roughly, Sean grabbed the stranger by her knuckle, trying to kiss her passionately on her ego. The stranger sallied forth up, seized Sean by the lip, and with an enchanting bound, dragged him to a nearby washing machine and turned him on his finger.
"Maybe you're gonna be more polite to a lady from now on," the stranger interrupted angrily. "The name's Mopsy, and I don't expect you're gonna forget it."
Sean sputtered threateningly until Mopsy let go and fiercely turned away with a comely beam. Suddenly, Sean reached into his pair of boxer shorts and pulled out a rose. "Hold it right there, Boopsie. I got something for you, doll."
Mopsy turned crankily, drew her pistol, and faced Sean. "You sure you wanna try that, Mr. Stern? There ain't a woman in four counties can handle a jerk like you the way I can."
The two stared at each other majestically for what seemed like a month. Finally, Sean lowered his rose. "Okay baby, you win," Sean belched crossly. "You got a lotta beards for a woman. No hard feelings?" He held out his hand toward her. Mopsy took his hand with an ambitious grin. "You know, honey pie, you're kinda lanky when you're angry."
Sean chose to take this as a compliment. "Come on, I'll buy you another Shirley Temple," he hollered.