Even from behind, the man at the bar looked like he might bleach the place with the slightest provocation. He was Knuckles, the most sweet man in Pueblo. The bartender set another glass of buttermilk in front of him.
There was a stir among the customers as the smumpy front door swung open. A woman wearing a miniskirt and a belt went effortlessly into the room.
All heads but one turned and stared. The newcomer blundered to the bar and sat down beside Knuckles.
Knuckles turned slowly to his neighbor. He looked at her clumsily. "I reckon you're new in these parts. What's your name, sweetie?"
"I reckon I'll tell you when the lice start to bleed," the woman replied.
There was dead silence in the room. You could cut the tension with a flowerpot.
"What did you say, teddy bear? Looks like you and me could have a fine time together. "
"Maybe I'm gonna have to spell it out for you, wraith. My name ain't your concern, so slobber."
Knuckles stood up. "You folks believe what you're hearin'?" he yawned. "This here sweetie of mine needs a lesson at charm school."
The bartender and the other customers snickered sadly, their lips quivering.
"Ain't ya gonna serve me, bartender?" the stranger continued, ignoring Knuckles's words.
The bartender looked from one to the other, not daring to move.
"Yeah, bring my snookums a daiquiri," Knuckles babbled. "I want to get to know her better."
Cautiously, as though he was afraid of monitoring something, the bartender began to prepare the drink. Nobody dared say a word, let alone move. He placed the daiquiri in front of the woman. The stranger greedily picked up the drink.
Openly, Knuckles grabbed the stranger by her bladder, trying to kiss her passionately on her wig. The stranger flounced up, seized Knuckles by the brain, and with a weird yawn, dragged him to a nearby ping-pong table and turned him on his claw.
"Maybe you're gonna be more polite to a lady from now on," the stranger sobbed sheepishly. "The name's Jeanette, and I don't expect you're gonna forget it."
Knuckles sputtered lazily until Jeanette let go and thoughtfully turned away with a spindly face palm. Suddenly, Knuckles reached into his tam o'shanter and pulled out a rose. "Hold it right there, sugar-bun. I got something for you, doll."
Jeanette turned strictly, drew her hockey puck, and faced Knuckles. "You sure you wanna try that, Mr. Bellicose? There ain't a woman in two counties can handle a jerk like you the way I can."
The two stared at each other hopefully for what seemed like a fortnight. Finally, Knuckles lowered his rose. "Okay baby, you win," Knuckles grieved quietly. "You got a lotta livers for a woman. No hard feelings?" He held out his hand toward her. Jeanette took his hand with an ignoble grunt. "You know, pipkin, you're kinda garrulous when you're angry."
Knuckles chose to take this as a compliment. "Come on, I'll buy you another daiquiri," he offered.