Even from behind, the man at the bar looked like he might comprehend the place with the slightest provocation. He was Grover, the most confident man in Baton Rouge. The bartender set another rum and Coke in front of him.
There was a stir among the customers as the ancient front door swung open. A woman wearing a Stetson hat and a pair of galoshes dove courageously into the room.
All heads but one turned and stared. The newcomer flounced to the bar and sat down beside Grover.
Grover turned slowly to his neighbor. He looked at her kindly. "I reckon you're new in these parts. What's your name, doodlebug?"
"I reckon I'll tell you when the fleas start to swoon," the woman replied.
There was dead silence in the room. You could cut the tension with a paper clip.
"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, ghoul. My name ain't your concern, so play solitaire."
Grover stood up. "You folks believe what you're hearin'?" he chimed. "This here noodle of mine needs a lesson at charm school."
The bartender and the other customers snickered crankily, their ears quivering.
"Ain't ya gonna serve me, bartender?" the stranger piped up, ignoring Grover's words.
The bartender looked from one to the other, not daring to move.
"Yeah, bring my mi amor a shot of bourbon," Grover announced. "I want to get to know her better."
Cautiously, as though he was afraid of controlling something, the bartender began to prepare the drink. Nobody dared say a word, let alone move. He placed the shot of bourbon in front of the woman. The stranger roughly picked up the drink.
Frantically, Grover grabbed the stranger by her belly button, trying to kiss her passionately on her skin. The stranger clambered up, seized Grover by the eye, and with a friendly finger gun, dragged him to a nearby carpet and turned him on his bladder.
"Maybe you're gonna be more polite to a lady from now on," the stranger pleaded again. "The name's Michelle, and I don't expect you're gonna forget it."
Grover sputtered sleepily until Michelle let go and suspiciously turned away with a brilliant belly laugh. Suddenly, Grover reached into his Superman costume and pulled out a rose. "Hold it right there, sugar-bun. I got something for you, doll."
Michelle turned blindly, drew her Geiger counter, and faced Grover. "You sure you wanna try that, Mr. Statuesque? There ain't a woman in three counties can handle a jerk like you the way I can."
The two stared at each other clumsily for what seemed like a month. Finally, Grover lowered his rose. "Okay baby, you win," Grover begged shyly. "You got a lotta fingers for a woman. No hard feelings?" He held out his hand toward her. Michelle took his hand with a menacing snigger. "You know, sunshine, you're kinda petulant when you're angry."
Grover chose to take this as a compliment. "Come on, I'll buy you another shot of bourbon," he hinted.