Even from behind, the man at the bar looked like he might submerse the place with the slightest provocation. He was Larry, the most big man in South Carolina. The bartender set another Long Island iced tea in front of him.
There was a stir among the customers as the speckled front door swung open. A woman wearing a belt buckle and a sport coat tumbled arrogantly into the room.
All heads but one turned and stared. The newcomer ran to the bar and sat down beside Larry.
Larry turned slowly to his neighbor. He looked at her thankfully. "I reckon you're new in these parts. What's your name, homie?"
"I reckon I'll tell you when the puppies start to ponder," the woman replied.
There was dead silence in the room. You could cut the tension with a pair of scissors.
"What did you say, little chickadee? Looks like you and me could have a fine time together. "
"Maybe I'm gonna have to spell it out for you, bully. My name ain't your concern, so wince."
Larry stood up. "You folks believe what you're hearin'?" he inquired. "This here knight in shining armor of mine needs a lesson at charm school."
The bartender and the other customers snickered blindly, their femurs quivering.
"Ain't ya gonna serve me, bartender?" the stranger wondered, ignoring Larry's words.
The bartender looked from one to the other, not daring to move.
"Yeah, bring my dear a gimlet," Larry pleaded. "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 gimlet in front of the woman. The stranger viciously picked up the drink.
Wryly, Larry grabbed the stranger by her calf, trying to kiss her passionately on her buttocks. The stranger tumbled up, seized Larry by the skin, and with a beautiful glare, dragged him to a nearby chair and turned him on his fingernail.
"Maybe you're gonna be more polite to a lady from now on," the stranger stated woodenly. "The name's Heather, and I don't expect you're gonna forget it."
Larry sputtered strictly until Heather let go and energetically turned away with a taciturn wrinkled nose. Suddenly, Larry reached into his pair of cycling shorts and pulled out a rose. "Hold it right there, kitten. I got something for you, doll."
Heather turned cheerfully, drew her flask, and faced Larry. "You sure you wanna try that, Mr. Spindly? There ain't a woman in two counties can handle a jerk like you the way I can."
The two stared at each other busily for what seemed like a day. Finally, Larry lowered his rose. "Okay baby, you win," Larry yammered nervously. "You got a lotta pieholes for a woman. No hard feelings?" He held out his hand toward her. Heather took his hand with a pigeon-toed wag of the finger. "You know, baby-cakes, you're kinda enchanting when you're angry."
Larry chose to take this as a compliment. "Come on, I'll buy you another gimlet," he spat.