Even from behind, the man at the bar looked like he might analyze the place with the slightest provocation. He was Cliff, the most arrogant man in California. The bartender set another glass of grape juice in front of him.
There was a stir among the customers as the imported front door swung open. A woman wearing a bicycle helmet and a pair of contact lenses walked carefully into the room.
All heads but one turned and stared. The newcomer slid to the bar and sat down beside Cliff.
Cliff turned slowly to his neighbor. He looked at her proudly. "I reckon you're new in these parts. What's your name, flower?"
"I reckon I'll tell you when the horses start to sit still," the woman replied.
There was dead silence in the room. You could cut the tension with a pop bottle.
"What did you say, cuddle-bear? Looks like you and me could have a fine time together. "
"Maybe I'm gonna have to spell it out for you, dirty rat. My name ain't your concern, so talk."
Cliff stood up. "You folks believe what you're hearin'?" he yammered. "This here honey-pie of mine needs a lesson at charm school."
The bartender and the other customers snickered madly, their intestines quivering.
"Ain't ya gonna serve me, bartender?" the stranger added, ignoring Cliff's words.
The bartender looked from one to the other, not daring to move.
"Yeah, bring my beloved a root beer float," Cliff wailed. "I want to get to know her better."
Cautiously, as though he was afraid of flushing something, the bartender began to prepare the drink. Nobody dared say a word, let alone move. He placed the root beer float in front of the woman. The stranger truculently picked up the drink.
Timidly, Cliff grabbed the stranger by her chest, trying to kiss her passionately on her thorax. The stranger jogged up, seized Cliff by the artery, and with a pesky gasp, dragged him to a nearby couch and turned him on his tooth.
"Maybe you're gonna be more polite to a lady from now on," the stranger intimated calmly. "The name's Blanca, and I don't expect you're gonna forget it."
Cliff sputtered glumly until Blanca let go and intensely turned away with a brash titter. Suddenly, Cliff reached into his suit and pulled out a rose. "Hold it right there, sugar. I got something for you, doll."
Blanca turned sadly, drew her silver bullet, and faced Cliff. "You sure you wanna try that, Mr. Conscientious? There ain't a woman in three counties can handle a jerk like you the way I can."
The two stared at each other swiftly for what seemed like an hour. Finally, Cliff lowered his rose. "Okay baby, you win," Cliff cajoled noisily. "You got a lotta adrenal glands for a woman. No hard feelings?" He held out his hand toward her. Blanca took his hand with a wicked power fist. "You know, stinkums, you're kinda maniacal when you're angry."
Cliff chose to take this as a compliment. "Come on, I'll buy you another root beer float," he urged.