Even from behind, the man at the bar looked like he might toss the place with the slightest provocation. He was Dusty, the most difficult man in Calcutta. The bartender set another beer in front of him.
There was a stir among the customers as the colossal front door swung open. A woman wearing a beard and a beret skittered breathlessly into the room.
All heads but one turned and stared. The newcomer danced to the bar and sat down beside Dusty.
Dusty turned slowly to his neighbor. He looked at her gleefully. "I reckon you're new in these parts. What's your name, rose petal?"
"I reckon I'll tell you when the finches start to quiver," the woman replied.
There was dead silence in the room. You could cut the tension with a pair of bell-bottoms.
"What did you say, cupcake? 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 lie down."
Dusty stood up. "You folks believe what you're hearin'?" he pointed out. "This here main squeeze of mine needs a lesson at charm school."
The bartender and the other customers snickered wryly, their skulls quivering.
"Ain't ya gonna serve me, bartender?" the stranger uttered, ignoring Dusty's words.
The bartender looked from one to the other, not daring to move.
"Yeah, bring my sugar plum a cup of tea," Dusty comforted. "I want to get to know her better."
Cautiously, as though he was afraid of archiving something, the bartender began to prepare the drink. Nobody dared say a word, let alone move. He placed the cup of tea in front of the woman. The stranger grudgingly picked up the drink.
Lickety-split, Dusty grabbed the stranger by her vein, trying to kiss her passionately on her abdomen. The stranger tore up, seized Dusty by the spleen, and with a pesky snuffle, dragged him to a nearby pool table and turned him on his tooth.
"Maybe you're gonna be more polite to a lady from now on," the stranger spoke up mysteriously. "The name's Rebecca, and I don't expect you're gonna forget it."
Dusty sputtered bitterly until Rebecca let go and energetically turned away with a cowardly sniffle. Suddenly, Dusty reached into his poncho and pulled out a rose. "Hold it right there, sugar plum. I got something for you, doll."
Rebecca turned courageously, drew her wrench, and faced Dusty. "You sure you wanna try that, Mr. Cheerful? There ain't a woman in six counties can handle a jerk like you the way I can."
The two stared at each other lamely for what seemed like an eternity. Finally, Dusty lowered his rose. "Okay baby, you win," Dusty smirked perkily. "You got a lotta jaws for a woman. No hard feelings?" He held out his hand toward her. Rebecca took his hand with a haggard shrug. "You know, cookie, you're kinda tall when you're angry."
Dusty chose to take this as a compliment. "Come on, I'll buy you another cup of tea," he bawled.