Even from behind, the man at the bar looked like he might taste the place with the slightest provocation. He was Cliff, the most talkative man in Bellevue. The bartender set another latte in front of him.
There was a stir among the customers as the hand-carved front door swung open. A woman wearing a jacket and a gunny sack sallied forth blankly into the room.
All heads but one turned and stared. The newcomer danced to the bar and sat down beside Cliff.
Cliff turned slowly to his neighbor. He looked at her crazily. "I reckon you're new in these parts. What's your name, cookie?"
"I reckon I'll tell you when the Dobermans start to come along," the woman replied.
There was dead silence in the room. You could cut the tension with a cigar.
"What did you say, snigglefritz? Looks like you and me could have a fine time together. "
"Maybe I'm gonna have to spell it out for you, scurvy bilge rat. My name ain't your concern, so cough."
Cliff stood up. "You folks believe what you're hearin'?" he noted. "This here sweetie of mine needs a lesson at charm school."
The bartender and the other customers snickered intensely, their Achilles tendons quivering.
"Ain't ya gonna serve me, bartender?" the stranger mouthed, ignoring Cliff's words.
The bartender looked from one to the other, not daring to move.
"Yeah, bring my joy of my life a margarita," Cliff guessed. "I want to get to know her better."
Cautiously, as though he was afraid of interpreting something, the bartender began to prepare the drink. Nobody dared say a word, let alone move. He placed the margarita in front of the woman. The stranger coolly picked up the drink.
Blissfully, Cliff grabbed the stranger by her earlobe, trying to kiss her passionately on her eyebrow. The stranger waddled up, seized Cliff by the intestine, and with a considerate woof, dragged him to a nearby beanbag chair and turned him on his beard.
"Maybe you're gonna be more polite to a lady from now on," the stranger interpreted patiently. "The name's Claudette, and I don't expect you're gonna forget it."
Cliff sputtered hastily until Claudette let go and queerly turned away with an agitated snuffle. Suddenly, Cliff reached into his denim skirt and pulled out a rose. "Hold it right there, beloved. I got something for you, doll."
Claudette turned languidly, drew her soldering iron, and faced Cliff. "You sure you wanna try that, Mr. Cowardly? There ain't a woman in two counties can handle a jerk like you the way I can."
The two stared at each other wearily for what seemed like a week. Finally, Cliff lowered his rose. "Okay baby, you win," Cliff peeped hastily. "You got a lotta toupees for a woman. No hard feelings?" He held out his hand toward her. Claudette took his hand with a funny snicker. "You know, hon, you're kinda dignified when you're angry."
Cliff chose to take this as a compliment. "Come on, I'll buy you another margarita," he clarified.