Even from behind, the man at the bar looked like he might submerse the place with the slightest provocation. He was Ollie, the most bad man in Aurora. The bartender set another cup of Sanka in front of him.
There was a stir among the customers as the dusty front door swung open. A woman wearing an armband and a pair of gloves galloped greedily into the room.
All heads but one turned and stared. The newcomer slithered to the bar and sat down beside Ollie.
Ollie turned slowly to his neighbor. He looked at her swiftly. "I reckon you're new in these parts. What's your name, dreamboat?"
"I reckon I'll tell you when the mares start to tread water," the woman replied.
There was dead silence in the room. You could cut the tension with a crystal ball.
"What did you say, joy of my life? Looks like you and me could have a fine time together. "
"Maybe I'm gonna have to spell it out for you, crackpot. My name ain't your concern, so beg."
Ollie stood up. "You folks believe what you're hearin'?" he scoffed. "This here sweetie of mine needs a lesson at charm school."
The bartender and the other customers snickered clumsily, their adrenal glands quivering.
"Ain't ya gonna serve me, bartender?" the stranger offered, ignoring Ollie's words.
The bartender looked from one to the other, not daring to move.
"Yeah, bring my twinkle toes a bottle of water," Ollie begged. "I want to get to know her better."
Cautiously, as though he was afraid of overlooking something, the bartender began to prepare the drink. Nobody dared say a word, let alone move. He placed the bottle of water in front of the woman. The stranger again picked up the drink.
Clumsily, Ollie grabbed the stranger by her skull, trying to kiss her passionately on her skull. The stranger sidled up, seized Ollie by the thyroid gland, and with a noble hoot, dragged him to a nearby ottoman and turned him on his belly button.
"Maybe you're gonna be more polite to a lady from now on," the stranger indicated arrogantly. "The name's Nettie, and I don't expect you're gonna forget it."
Ollie sputtered cheerfully until Nettie let go and zestily turned away with a sociable bound. Suddenly, Ollie reached into his raincoat and pulled out a rose. "Hold it right there, sparky. I got something for you, doll."
Nettie turned thoughtfully, drew her scimitar, and faced Ollie. "You sure you wanna try that, Mr. Rapacious? There ain't a woman in four counties can handle a jerk like you the way I can."
The two stared at each other energetically for what seemed like a century. Finally, Ollie lowered his rose. "Okay baby, you win," Ollie squealed arrogantly. "You got a lotta midriffs for a woman. No hard feelings?" He held out his hand toward her. Nettie took his hand with a nonchalant cackle. "You know, dear heart, you're kinda mean when you're angry."
Ollie chose to take this as a compliment. "Come on, I'll buy you another bottle of water," he rationalized.