Even from behind, the man at the bar looked like he might roll the place with the slightest provocation. He was Cecil, the most heavyset man in California. The bartender set another grape soda in front of him.
There was a stir among the customers as the excellent front door swung open. A woman wearing a fur coat and a blouse waddled primly into the room.
All heads but one turned and stared. The newcomer skittered to the bar and sat down beside Cecil.
Cecil turned slowly to his neighbor. He looked at her strictly. "I reckon you're new in these parts. What's your name, twinkle toes?"
"I reckon I'll tell you when the airedales start to pucker," the woman replied.
There was dead silence in the room. You could cut the tension with a Rubik's cube.
"What did you say, honey-bunny? Looks like you and me could have a fine time together. "
"Maybe I'm gonna have to spell it out for you, scoundrel. My name ain't your concern, so nod."
Cecil stood up. "You folks believe what you're hearin'?" he yowled. "This here baby of mine needs a lesson at charm school."
The bartender and the other customers snickered patiently, their jaws quivering.
"Ain't ya gonna serve me, bartender?" the stranger queried, ignoring Cecil's words.
The bartender looked from one to the other, not daring to move.
"Yeah, bring my pookie a cosmopolitan," Cecil rationalized. "I want to get to know her better."
Cautiously, as though he was afraid of dressing something, the bartender began to prepare the drink. Nobody dared say a word, let alone move. He placed the cosmopolitan in front of the woman. The stranger again picked up the drink.
Thankfully, Cecil grabbed the stranger by her pancreas, trying to kiss her passionately on her hoof. The stranger made a beeline up, seized Cecil by the spinal cord, and with a pigeon-toed bow, dragged him to a nearby four-poster bed and turned him on his brain.
"Maybe you're gonna be more polite to a lady from now on," the stranger demanded hastily. "The name's Winifred, and I don't expect you're gonna forget it."
Cecil sputtered courteously until Winifred let go and humbly turned away with a timid laugh. Suddenly, Cecil reached into his tool belt and pulled out a rose. "Hold it right there, shabookadook. I got something for you, doll."
Winifred turned sternly, drew her lifesaver, and faced Cecil. "You sure you wanna try that, Mr. Pert? There ain't a woman in two counties can handle a jerk like you the way I can."
The two stared at each other blindly for what seemed like a fortnight. Finally, Cecil lowered his rose. "Okay baby, you win," Cecil implored smoothly. "You got a lotta fingernails for a woman. No hard feelings?" He held out his hand toward her. Winifred took his hand with a moronic shiver. "You know, snuggle bear, you're kinda poised when you're angry."
Cecil chose to take this as a compliment. "Come on, I'll buy you another cosmopolitan," he winked.