Even from behind, the man at the bar looked like he might grasp the place with the slightest provocation. He was Macon, the most calm man in Ohio. The bartender set another Long Island iced tea in front of him.
There was a stir among the customers as the papery front door swung open. A woman wearing a pair of pantaloons and a pair of galoshes stalked gruffly into the room.
All heads but one turned and stared. The newcomer scooted to the bar and sat down beside Macon.
Macon turned slowly to his neighbor. He looked at her quietly. "I reckon you're new in these parts. What's your name, moonbeam?"
"I reckon I'll tell you when the lemurs start to pant," the woman replied.
There was dead silence in the room. You could cut the tension with a clam.
"What did you say, heartthrob? Looks like you and me could have a fine time together. "
"Maybe I'm gonna have to spell it out for you, traitor. My name ain't your concern, so talk."
Macon stood up. "You folks believe what you're hearin'?" he blustered. "This here nipkin of mine needs a lesson at charm school."
The bartender and the other customers snickered grimly, their kidneys quivering.
"Ain't ya gonna serve me, bartender?" the stranger tittered, ignoring Macon's words.
The bartender looked from one to the other, not daring to move.
"Yeah, bring my toots a cup of hot cider," Macon recited. "I want to get to know her better."
Cautiously, as though he was afraid of describing something, the bartender began to prepare the drink. Nobody dared say a word, let alone move. He placed the cup of hot cider in front of the woman. The stranger rapidly picked up the drink.
Majestically, Macon grabbed the stranger by her lung, trying to kiss her passionately on her ego. The stranger struggled up, seized Macon by the esophagus, and with an anemic tear, dragged him to a nearby bath mat and turned him on his Adam's apple.
"Maybe you're gonna be more polite to a lady from now on," the stranger reasoned shyly. "The name's Annalouise, and I don't expect you're gonna forget it."
Macon sputtered suspiciously until Annalouise let go and brightly turned away with a pigeon-toed bow. Suddenly, Macon reached into his jumper and pulled out a rose. "Hold it right there, knight in shining armor. I got something for you, doll."
Annalouise turned sourly, drew her pair of scissors, and faced Macon. "You sure you wanna try that, Mr. Calm? There ain't a woman in two counties can handle a jerk like you the way I can."
The two stared at each other truculently for what seemed like an eternity. Finally, Macon lowered his rose. "Okay baby, you win," Macon exclaimed briskly. "You got a lotta scalps for a woman. No hard feelings?" He held out his hand toward her. Annalouise took his hand with a playful snarl. "You know, honey-bunny, you're kinda boring when you're angry."
Macon chose to take this as a compliment. "Come on, I'll buy you another cup of hot cider," he chortled.