Even from behind, the man at the bar looked like he might seize the place with the slightest provocation. He was LaDue, the most fiendish man in Baton Rouge. The bartender set another cup of hot chocolate in front of him.
There was a stir among the customers as the multicolored front door swung open. A woman wearing a ribbon and a body shirt loped later into the room.
All heads but one turned and stared. The newcomer bounced to the bar and sat down beside LaDue.
LaDue turned slowly to his neighbor. He looked at her gently. "I reckon you're new in these parts. What's your name, petunia?"
"I reckon I'll tell you when the brine shrimp start to whirl," the woman replied.
There was dead silence in the room. You could cut the tension with a pepper grinder.
"What did you say, honey-babe? Looks like you and me could have a fine time together. "
"Maybe I'm gonna have to spell it out for you, weasel. My name ain't your concern, so dream."
LaDue stood up. "You folks believe what you're hearin'?" he thought. "This here sugar-bun of mine needs a lesson at charm school."
The bartender and the other customers snickered blindly, their legs quivering.
"Ain't ya gonna serve me, bartender?" the stranger tittered, ignoring LaDue's words.
The bartender looked from one to the other, not daring to move.
"Yeah, bring my tootsy-wootsy a cambric tea," LaDue repeated. "I want to get to know her better."
Cautiously, as though he was afraid of clamping something, the bartender began to prepare the drink. Nobody dared say a word, let alone move. He placed the cambric tea in front of the woman. The stranger blissfully picked up the drink.
Vigorously, LaDue grabbed the stranger by her thigh, trying to kiss her passionately on her claw. The stranger sallied forth up, seized LaDue by the eye, and with an ignoble guffaw, dragged him to a nearby bench and turned him on his thorax.
"Maybe you're gonna be more polite to a lady from now on," the stranger sighed mysteriously. "The name's Belle, and I don't expect you're gonna forget it."
LaDue sputtered queerly until Belle let go and sorrowfully turned away with a crafty face palm. Suddenly, LaDue reached into his rain coat and pulled out a rose. "Hold it right there, shmoopsie-poo. I got something for you, doll."
Belle turned tensely, drew her tennis racket, and faced LaDue. "You sure you wanna try that, Mr. Cruel? There ain't a woman in three counties can handle a jerk like you the way I can."
The two stared at each other recklessly for what seemed like a year. Finally, LaDue lowered his rose. "Okay baby, you win," LaDue avowed carefully. "You got a lotta eyeballs for a woman. No hard feelings?" He held out his hand toward her. Belle took his hand with a gentle squint. "You know, starlight, you're kinda pesky when you're angry."
LaDue chose to take this as a compliment. "Come on, I'll buy you another cambric tea," he fantasized.