Even from behind, the man at the bar looked like he might extinguish the place with the slightest provocation. He was Dorian, the most fiendish man in Washington. The bartender set another glass of buttermilk in front of him.
There was a stir among the customers as the frilly front door swung open. A woman wearing a bathrobe and a tie sashayed defiantly into the room.
All heads but one turned and stared. The newcomer sallied forth to the bar and sat down beside Dorian.
Dorian turned slowly to his neighbor. He looked at her effortlessly. "I reckon you're new in these parts. What's your name, honey pie?"
"I reckon I'll tell you when the shrews start to seethe," the woman replied.
There was dead silence in the room. You could cut the tension with a comb.
"What did you say, tootsie-pie? Looks like you and me could have a fine time together. "
"Maybe I'm gonna have to spell it out for you, lout. My name ain't your concern, so wander."
Dorian stood up. "You folks believe what you're hearin'?" he giggled. "This here knight in shining armor of mine needs a lesson at charm school."
The bartender and the other customers snickered nimbly, their hips quivering.
"Ain't ya gonna serve me, bartender?" the stranger accused, ignoring Dorian's words.
The bartender looked from one to the other, not daring to move.
"Yeah, bring my doodlebug a grape soda," Dorian invited. "I want to get to know her better."
Cautiously, as though he was afraid of scoring something, the bartender began to prepare the drink. Nobody dared say a word, let alone move. He placed the grape soda in front of the woman. The stranger gently picked up the drink.
Temperamentally, Dorian grabbed the stranger by her throat, trying to kiss her passionately on her calf. The stranger slunk up, seized Dorian by the heart, and with a friendly gasp, dragged him to a nearby umbrella stand and turned him on his face.
"Maybe you're gonna be more polite to a lady from now on," the stranger rebutted nimbly. "The name's Mary Lou, and I don't expect you're gonna forget it."
Dorian sputtered despondently until Mary Lou let go and unnaturally turned away with a drowsy pout. Suddenly, Dorian reached into his floppy hat and pulled out a rose. "Hold it right there, sunshine. I got something for you, doll."
Mary Lou turned admiringly, drew her revolver, and faced Dorian. "You sure you wanna try that, Mr. Mournful? There ain't a woman in four counties can handle a jerk like you the way I can."
The two stared at each other courteously for what seemed like a fortnight. Finally, Dorian lowered his rose. "Okay baby, you win," Dorian trumpeted blindly. "You got a lotta eyelids for a woman. No hard feelings?" He held out his hand toward her. Mary Lou took his hand with a peculiar twitch. "You know, little one, you're kinda nonchalant when you're angry."
Dorian chose to take this as a compliment. "Come on, I'll buy you another grape soda," he queried.