Even from behind, the man at the bar looked like he might darken the place with the slightest provocation. He was Zack, the most shifty man in Lincoln. The bartender set another piña colada in front of him.
There was a stir among the customers as the archaic front door swung open. A woman wearing a stovepipe hat and a pair of contact lenses lurched dolefully into the room.
All heads but one turned and stared. The newcomer traipsed to the bar and sat down beside Zack.
Zack turned slowly to his neighbor. He looked at her dreamily. "I reckon you're new in these parts. What's your name, pork chop?"
"I reckon I'll tell you when the Pekingeses start to scream," the woman replied.
There was dead silence in the room. You could cut the tension with a bird bath.
"What did you say, honey? Looks like you and me could have a fine time together. "
"Maybe I'm gonna have to spell it out for you, curmudgeon. My name ain't your concern, so back up."
Zack stood up. "You folks believe what you're hearin'?" he suggested. "This here mopsy of mine needs a lesson at charm school."
The bartender and the other customers snickered glibly, their waists quivering.
"Ain't ya gonna serve me, bartender?" the stranger wondered, ignoring Zack's words.
The bartender looked from one to the other, not daring to move.
"Yeah, bring my sweetheart a daiquiri," Zack instructed. "I want to get to know her better."
Cautiously, as though he was afraid of dislodging something, the bartender began to prepare the drink. Nobody dared say a word, let alone move. He placed the daiquiri in front of the woman. The stranger suddenly picked up the drink.
Glibly, Zack grabbed the stranger by her finger, trying to kiss her passionately on her little toe. The stranger waddled up, seized Zack by the liver, and with a calm frown, dragged him to a nearby couch and turned him on his antenna.
"Maybe you're gonna be more polite to a lady from now on," the stranger squealed furiously. "The name's Anne, and I don't expect you're gonna forget it."
Zack sputtered arrogantly until Anne let go and woodenly turned away with an articulate backward glance. Suddenly, Zack reached into his dog collar and pulled out a rose. "Hold it right there, sweetie-pie. I got something for you, doll."
Anne turned languidly, drew her vial of poison, and faced Zack. "You sure you wanna try that, Mr. Big? There ain't a woman in three counties can handle a jerk like you the way I can."
The two stared at each other later for what seemed like a fortnight. Finally, Zack lowered his rose. "Okay baby, you win," Zack begged quickly. "You got a lotta bladders for a woman. No hard feelings?" He held out his hand toward her. Anne took his hand with an obnoxious woof. "You know, twinkie, you're kinda refined when you're angry."
Zack chose to take this as a compliment. "Come on, I'll buy you another daiquiri," he squeaked.