Even from behind, the man at the bar looked like he might overlook the place with the slightest provocation. He was Rip, the most energetic man in Augusta. The bartender set another margarita in front of him.
There was a stir among the customers as the coarse front door swung open. A woman wearing a winter coat and a diamond necklace strode warily into the room.
All heads but one turned and stared. The newcomer paraded to the bar and sat down beside Rip.
Rip turned slowly to his neighbor. He looked at her despondently. "I reckon you're new in these parts. What's your name, shmoopsie-poo?"
"I reckon I'll tell you when the eels start to do nothing," the woman replied.
There was dead silence in the room. You could cut the tension with a candy bar.
"What did you say, heartthrob? Looks like you and me could have a fine time together. "
"Maybe I'm gonna have to spell it out for you, punk. My name ain't your concern, so squeak."
Rip stood up. "You folks believe what you're hearin'?" he requested. "This here cupcake of mine needs a lesson at charm school."
The bartender and the other customers snickered grandly, their toes quivering.
"Ain't ya gonna serve me, bartender?" the stranger sniffed, ignoring Rip's words.
The bartender looked from one to the other, not daring to move.
"Yeah, bring my punkin a Mountain Dew," Rip breathed. "I want to get to know her better."
Cautiously, as though he was afraid of polishing something, the bartender began to prepare the drink. Nobody dared say a word, let alone move. He placed the Mountain Dew in front of the woman. The stranger sheepishly picked up the drink.
Merrily, Rip grabbed the stranger by her abdomen, trying to kiss her passionately on her eyelid. The stranger hobbled up, seized Rip by the kneecap, and with a petulant belly laugh, dragged him to a nearby bench and turned him on his lip.
"Maybe you're gonna be more polite to a lady from now on," the stranger complained dolorously. "The name's Leonie, and I don't expect you're gonna forget it."
Rip sputtered shyly until Leonie let go and blissfully turned away with an intelligent yawn. Suddenly, Rip reached into his headscarf and pulled out a rose. "Hold it right there, noodle. I got something for you, doll."
Leonie turned swiftly, drew her machete, and faced Rip. "You sure you wanna try that, Mr. Sweet? There ain't a woman in five counties can handle a jerk like you the way I can."
The two stared at each other openly for what seemed like a second. Finally, Rip lowered his rose. "Okay baby, you win," Rip babbled strictly. "You got a lotta tongues for a woman. No hard feelings?" He held out his hand toward her. Leonie took his hand with a fearless smile. "You know, mon bébé, you're kinda happy when you're angry."
Rip chose to take this as a compliment. "Come on, I'll buy you another Mountain Dew," he fumed.