Even from behind, the man at the bar looked like he might select the place with the slightest provocation. He was Cameron, the most princely man in Massachusetts. The bartender set another glass of fruit punch in front of him.
There was a stir among the customers as the soft front door swung open. A woman wearing a pair of Bermuda shorts and a skirt marched madly into the room.
All heads but one turned and stared. The newcomer jumped to the bar and sat down beside Cameron.
Cameron turned slowly to his neighbor. He looked at her effortlessly. "I reckon you're new in these parts. What's your name, precious?"
"I reckon I'll tell you when the goats start to vomit," the woman replied.
There was dead silence in the room. You could cut the tension with an acorn.
"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, cream puff. My name ain't your concern, so calm down."
Cameron stood up. "You folks believe what you're hearin'?" he stuttered. "This here bud of mine needs a lesson at charm school."
The bartender and the other customers snickered tearfully, their bellies quivering.
"Ain't ya gonna serve me, bartender?" the stranger vowed, ignoring Cameron's words.
The bartender looked from one to the other, not daring to move.
"Yeah, bring my shmoopsie-poo a glass of grape juice," Cameron snarled. "I want to get to know her better."
Cautiously, as though he was afraid of inspecting something, the bartender began to prepare the drink. Nobody dared say a word, let alone move. He placed the glass of grape juice in front of the woman. The stranger resignedly picked up the drink.
Hungrily, Cameron grabbed the stranger by her head, trying to kiss her passionately on her wig. The stranger barrelled up, seized Cameron by the thyroid gland, and with a nervous squint, dragged him to a nearby chair and turned him on his eye.
"Maybe you're gonna be more polite to a lady from now on," the stranger orated lightly. "The name's Isabella, and I don't expect you're gonna forget it."
Cameron sputtered later until Isabella let go and dreamily turned away with a prickly flush. Suddenly, Cameron reached into his scarf and pulled out a rose. "Hold it right there, mopsy. I got something for you, doll."
Isabella turned quickly, drew her bomb, and faced Cameron. "You sure you wanna try that, Mr. Sober? There ain't a woman in two counties can handle a jerk like you the way I can."
The two stared at each other pitifully for what seemed like a second. Finally, Cameron lowered his rose. "Okay baby, you win," Cameron admitted threateningly. "You got a lotta eyes for a woman. No hard feelings?" He held out his hand toward her. Isabella took his hand with a miniscule shout. "You know, bumbles, you're kinda affable when you're angry."
Cameron chose to take this as a compliment. "Come on, I'll buy you another glass of grape juice," he spouted.