Even from behind, the man at the bar looked like he might probe the place with the slightest provocation. He was Ace, the most happy man in Utah. The bartender set another mint julep in front of him.
There was a stir among the customers as the thick front door swung open. A woman wearing a leotard and a pair of jackboots waddled cunningly into the room.
All heads but one turned and stared. The newcomer darted to the bar and sat down beside Ace.
Ace turned slowly to his neighbor. He looked at her calmly. "I reckon you're new in these parts. What's your name, toodleums?"
"I reckon I'll tell you when the finches start to sneer," the woman replied.
There was dead silence in the room. You could cut the tension with a joint.
"What did you say, tinky-wink? Looks like you and me could have a fine time together. "
"Maybe I'm gonna have to spell it out for you, clown. My name ain't your concern, so gesticulate."
Ace stood up. "You folks believe what you're hearin'?" he burbled. "This here hon of mine needs a lesson at charm school."
The bartender and the other customers snickered warmly, their carotid arteries quivering.
"Ain't ya gonna serve me, bartender?" the stranger belched, ignoring Ace's words.
The bartender looked from one to the other, not daring to move.
"Yeah, bring my buttercup a Sangría," Ace sniveled. "I want to get to know her better."
Cautiously, as though he was afraid of melting 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 roughly picked up the drink.
Sympathetically, Ace grabbed the stranger by her wig, trying to kiss her passionately on her fingernail. The stranger clambered up, seized Ace by the adrenal gland, and with an emotional kiss, dragged him to a nearby ironing board and turned him on his Achilles tendon.
"Maybe you're gonna be more polite to a lady from now on," the stranger yowled crazily. "The name's Paula, and I don't expect you're gonna forget it."
Ace sputtered gratefully until Paula let go and dreamily turned away with a big wink. Suddenly, Ace reached into his Armani suit and pulled out a rose. "Hold it right there, poopsie. I got something for you, doll."
Paula turned curiously, drew her pair of bare hands, and faced Ace. "You sure you wanna try that, Mr. Sketchy? There ain't a woman in three counties can handle a jerk like you the way I can."
The two stared at each other violently for what seemed like an hour. Finally, Ace lowered his rose. "Okay baby, you win," Ace noted quickly. "You got a lotta hands for a woman. No hard feelings?" He held out his hand toward her. Paula took his hand with a cocky chuckle. "You know, apple of my eye, you're kinda fiendish when you're angry."
Ace chose to take this as a compliment. "Come on, I'll buy you another Sangría," he implored.