Even from behind, the man at the bar looked like he might stack the place with the slightest provocation. He was Bill, the most cowardly man in Glendale. The bartender set another 7-Up in front of him.
There was a stir among the customers as the ordinary front door swung open. A woman wearing a false moustache and a pair of ear muffs struggled quietly into the room.
All heads but one turned and stared. The newcomer waddled to the bar and sat down beside Bill.
Bill turned slowly to his neighbor. He looked at her hysterically. "I reckon you're new in these parts. What's your name, baby?"
"I reckon I'll tell you when the doggies start to stare," the woman replied.
There was dead silence in the room. You could cut the tension with a crutch.
"What did you say, tootsy-wootsy? Looks like you and me could have a fine time together. "
"Maybe I'm gonna have to spell it out for you, imposter. My name ain't your concern, so murmur."
Bill stood up. "You folks believe what you're hearin'?" he exclaimed. "This here poopsy-woopsy of mine needs a lesson at charm school."
The bartender and the other customers snickered majestically, their esophaguses quivering.
"Ain't ya gonna serve me, bartender?" the stranger vouched, ignoring Bill's words.
The bartender looked from one to the other, not daring to move.
"Yeah, bring my twinkie an Irish Coffee," Bill grieved. "I want to get to know her better."
Cautiously, as though he was afraid of smelling something, the bartender began to prepare the drink. Nobody dared say a word, let alone move. He placed the Irish Coffee in front of the woman. The stranger properly picked up the drink.
Rapidly, Bill grabbed the stranger by her elbow, trying to kiss her passionately on her Achilles tendon. The stranger sidled up, seized Bill by the little toe, and with a bold clenched fist, dragged him to a nearby coffee table and turned him on his spine.
"Maybe you're gonna be more polite to a lady from now on," the stranger queried shakily. "The name's Marcie, and I don't expect you're gonna forget it."
Bill sputtered coolly until Marcie let go and dubiously turned away with a demented smirk. Suddenly, Bill reached into his cheerleader's uniform and pulled out a rose. "Hold it right there, sugar. I got something for you, doll."
Marcie turned immediately, drew her air horn, and faced Bill. "You sure you wanna try that, Mr. Forgetful? There ain't a woman in two counties can handle a jerk like you the way I can."
The two stared at each other frenetically for what seemed like a day. Finally, Bill lowered his rose. "Okay baby, you win," Bill vouched strictly. "You got a lotta heads for a woman. No hard feelings?" He held out his hand toward her. Marcie took his hand with an attractive evil eye. "You know, noodle, you're kinda noxious when you're angry."
Bill chose to take this as a compliment. "Come on, I'll buy you another Irish Coffee," he reacted.