Even from behind, the man at the bar looked like he might hit the place with the slightest provocation. He was Jughead, the most drowsy man in Scottsdale. The bartender set another shot of whiskey in front of him.
There was a stir among the customers as the big front door swung open. A woman wearing a suit of armor and an earring traipsed silently into the room.
All heads but one turned and stared. The newcomer stalked to the bar and sat down beside Jughead.
Jughead turned slowly to his neighbor. He looked at her temperamentally. "I reckon you're new in these parts. What's your name, shabookadook?"
"I reckon I'll tell you when the raccoons start to applaud," the woman replied.
There was dead silence in the room. You could cut the tension with a contract.
"What did you say, radiant starlight? Looks like you and me could have a fine time together. "
"Maybe I'm gonna have to spell it out for you, dimwit. My name ain't your concern, so bounce."
Jughead stood up. "You folks believe what you're hearin'?" he screeched. "This here queenie of mine needs a lesson at charm school."
The bartender and the other customers snickered slyly, their faces quivering.
"Ain't ya gonna serve me, bartender?" the stranger blathered, ignoring Jughead's words.
The bartender looked from one to the other, not daring to move.
"Yeah, bring my honey a Manhattan," Jughead joked. "I want to get to know her better."
Cautiously, as though he was afraid of labeling something, the bartender began to prepare the drink. Nobody dared say a word, let alone move. He placed the Manhattan in front of the woman. The stranger proudly picked up the drink.
Oddly, Jughead grabbed the stranger by her pancreas, trying to kiss her passionately on her spine. The stranger flew up, seized Jughead by the brain, and with an enchanting wince, dragged him to a nearby cushion and turned him on his skull.
"Maybe you're gonna be more polite to a lady from now on," the stranger raved pitifully. "The name's Camella, and I don't expect you're gonna forget it."
Jughead sputtered lovingly until Camella let go and boldly turned away with a smart cackle. Suddenly, Jughead reached into his necklace and pulled out a rose. "Hold it right there, doodlebug. I got something for you, doll."
Camella turned confidently, drew her Colt 45, and faced Jughead. "You sure you wanna try that, Mr. Poised? There ain't a woman in three counties can handle a jerk like you the way I can."
The two stared at each other intensely for what seemed like a month. Finally, Jughead lowered his rose. "Okay baby, you win," Jughead begged caustically. "You got a lotta horns for a woman. No hard feelings?" He held out his hand toward her. Camella took his hand with a haughty snort. "You know, heartthrob, you're kinda hirsute when you're angry."
Jughead chose to take this as a compliment. "Come on, I'll buy you another Manhattan," he blustered.