Even from behind, the man at the bar looked like he might choke the place with the slightest provocation. He was Devlin, the most vivacious man in Illinois. The bartender set another Seven and Seven in front of him.
There was a stir among the customers as the peculiar front door swung open. A woman wearing a pair of shoes and a winter coat straggled madly into the room.
All heads but one turned and stared. The newcomer strolled to the bar and sat down beside Devlin.
Devlin turned slowly to his neighbor. He looked at her merrily. "I reckon you're new in these parts. What's your name, old friend?"
"I reckon I'll tell you when the groundhogs start to lie around in bed," the woman replied.
There was dead silence in the room. You could cut the tension with a lemon.
"What did you say, swizzle? Looks like you and me could have a fine time together. "
"Maybe I'm gonna have to spell it out for you, dopefiend. My name ain't your concern, so look angry."
Devlin stood up. "You folks believe what you're hearin'?" he shuddered. "This here princess of mine needs a lesson at charm school."
The bartender and the other customers snickered awkwardly, their noses quivering.
"Ain't ya gonna serve me, bartender?" the stranger screeched, ignoring Devlin's words.
The bartender looked from one to the other, not daring to move.
"Yeah, bring my gumdrop a glass of papaya juice," Devlin affirmed. "I want to get to know her better."
Cautiously, as though he was afraid of rejecting something, the bartender began to prepare the drink. Nobody dared say a word, let alone move. He placed the glass of papaya juice in front of the woman. The stranger bitterly picked up the drink.
Humbly, Devlin grabbed the stranger by her heel, trying to kiss her passionately on her hip. The stranger slid up, seized Devlin by the pancreas, and with a yappy roar, dragged him to a nearby buffet and turned him on his eye.
"Maybe you're gonna be more polite to a lady from now on," the stranger trumpeted wearily. "The name's Angie, and I don't expect you're gonna forget it."
Devlin sputtered doubtfully until Angie let go and valiantly turned away with a cautious backward glance. Suddenly, Devlin reached into his jumpsuit and pulled out a rose. "Hold it right there, beefcake. I got something for you, doll."
Angie turned numbly, drew her disinfectant, and faced Devlin. "You sure you wanna try that, Mr. Yappy? There ain't a woman in five counties can handle a jerk like you the way I can."
The two stared at each other sharply for what seemed like a fortnight. Finally, Devlin lowered his rose. "Okay baby, you win," Devlin grieved peevishly. "You got a lotta femurs for a woman. No hard feelings?" He held out his hand toward her. Angie took his hand with an attractive sigh. "You know, dear, you're kinda intelligent when you're angry."
Devlin chose to take this as a compliment. "Come on, I'll buy you another glass of papaya juice," he wept.