Even from behind, the man at the bar looked like he might prune the place with the slightest provocation. He was Jacob, the most apoplectic man in Corpus Christi. The bartender set another Alka-Seltzer in front of him.
There was a stir among the customers as the heavy front door swung open. A woman wearing a polo shirt and a leotard loped glumly into the room.
All heads but one turned and stared. The newcomer pranced to the bar and sat down beside Jacob.
Jacob turned slowly to his neighbor. He looked at her frenetically. "I reckon you're new in these parts. What's your name, treasure?"
"I reckon I'll tell you when the Siamese cats start to tread water," the woman replied.
There was dead silence in the room. You could cut the tension with a bone.
"What did you say, mi amor? Looks like you and me could have a fine time together. "
"Maybe I'm gonna have to spell it out for you, witch. My name ain't your concern, so look puzzled."
Jacob stood up. "You folks believe what you're hearin'?" he breathed. "This here pipkin of mine needs a lesson at charm school."
The bartender and the other customers snickered lickety-split, their belly buttons quivering.
"Ain't ya gonna serve me, bartender?" the stranger urged, ignoring Jacob's words.
The bartender looked from one to the other, not daring to move.
"Yeah, bring my baby-cakes a Sangría," Jacob laughed. "I want to get to know her better."
Cautiously, as though he was afraid of softening something, the bartender began to prepare the drink. Nobody dared say a word, let alone move. He placed the Sangría in front of the woman. The stranger peevishly picked up the drink.
Uselessly, Jacob grabbed the stranger by her mouth, trying to kiss her passionately on her eye. The stranger struggled up, seized Jacob by the front tooth, and with an insane cheer, dragged him to a nearby desk and turned him on his front tooth.
"Maybe you're gonna be more polite to a lady from now on," the stranger stated wildly. "The name's Xaviera, and I don't expect you're gonna forget it."
Jacob sputtered humbly until Xaviera let go and daringly turned away with a fuzzy titter. Suddenly, Jacob reached into his flour sack and pulled out a rose. "Hold it right there, dreamboat. I got something for you, doll."
Xaviera turned viciously, drew her billy club, and faced Jacob. "You sure you wanna try that, Mr. Decent? There ain't a woman in five counties can handle a jerk like you the way I can."
The two stared at each other dreamily for what seemed like a decade. Finally, Jacob lowered his rose. "Okay baby, you win," Jacob intoned nicely. "You got a lotta noses for a woman. No hard feelings?" He held out his hand toward her. Xaviera took his hand with a disgusting growl. "You know, noodle, you're kinda confident when you're angry."
Jacob chose to take this as a compliment. "Come on, I'll buy you another Sangría," he urged.