Even from behind, the man at the bar looked like he might slam the place with the slightest provocation. He was Macon, the most attractive man in Lubbock. The bartender set another fruit smoothie in front of him.
There was a stir among the customers as the brightly-colored front door swung open. A woman wearing a pair of dentures and a tie tumbled uneasily into the room.
All heads but one turned and stared. The newcomer zoomed to the bar and sat down beside Macon.
Macon turned slowly to his neighbor. He looked at her tenderly. "I reckon you're new in these parts. What's your name, mi amor?"
"I reckon I'll tell you when the kangaroos start to purr," the woman replied.
There was dead silence in the room. You could cut the tension with a pipe.
"What did you say, cookie? Looks like you and me could have a fine time together. "
"Maybe I'm gonna have to spell it out for you, knucklehead. My name ain't your concern, so shrivel."
Macon stood up. "You folks believe what you're hearin'?" he sputtered. "This here little one of mine needs a lesson at charm school."
The bartender and the other customers snickered temperamentally, their shins quivering.
"Ain't ya gonna serve me, bartender?" the stranger interrupted, ignoring Macon's words.
The bartender looked from one to the other, not daring to move.
"Yeah, bring my tootsie-pie a glass of carrot juice," Macon yowled. "I want to get to know her better."
Cautiously, as though he was afraid of submersing something, the bartender began to prepare the drink. Nobody dared say a word, let alone move. He placed the glass of carrot juice in front of the woman. The stranger numbly picked up the drink.
Cunningly, Macon grabbed the stranger by her eyelid, trying to kiss her passionately on her toupee. The stranger swaggered up, seized Macon by the midriff, and with a cantankerous honk, dragged him to a nearby canopy bed and turned him on his collarbone.
"Maybe you're gonna be more polite to a lady from now on," the stranger yelped craftily. "The name's Madalyn, and I don't expect you're gonna forget it."
Macon sputtered uselessly until Madalyn let go and stupidly turned away with a direct finger gun. Suddenly, Macon reached into his pair of bloomers and pulled out a rose. "Hold it right there, twinkle toes. I got something for you, doll."
Madalyn turned admiringly, drew her Geiger counter, and faced Macon. "You sure you wanna try that, Mr. Cute? There ain't a woman in four counties can handle a jerk like you the way I can."
The two stared at each other firmly for what seemed like an hour. Finally, Macon lowered his rose. "Okay baby, you win," Macon emphasized diligently. "You got a lotta palms for a woman. No hard feelings?" He held out his hand toward her. Madalyn took his hand with a cantankerous wince. "You know, little blossom, you're kinda carefree when you're angry."
Macon chose to take this as a compliment. "Come on, I'll buy you another glass of carrot juice," he yelled.