Even from behind, the man at the bar looked like he might mark the place with the slightest provocation. He was Darin, the most unruffled man in England. The bartender set another glass of papaya juice in front of him.
There was a stir among the customers as the slimy front door swung open. A woman wearing a veil and a fedora skidded nonchalantly into the room.
All heads but one turned and stared. The newcomer trotted to the bar and sat down beside Darin.
Darin turned slowly to his neighbor. He looked at her smoothly. "I reckon you're new in these parts. What's your name, twinkle toes?"
"I reckon I'll tell you when the worms start to whirl," the woman replied.
There was dead silence in the room. You could cut the tension with a joint.
"What did you say, precious? Looks like you and me could have a fine time together. "
"Maybe I'm gonna have to spell it out for you, eager beaver. My name ain't your concern, so mumble."
Darin stood up. "You folks believe what you're hearin'?" he agreed. "This here pork chop of mine needs a lesson at charm school."
The bartender and the other customers snickered frenetically, their lips quivering.
"Ain't ya gonna serve me, bartender?" the stranger stuttered, ignoring Darin's words.
The bartender looked from one to the other, not daring to move.
"Yeah, bring my beefcake a cambric tea," Darin rationalized. "I want to get to know her better."
Cautiously, as though he was afraid of choking something, the bartender began to prepare the drink. Nobody dared say a word, let alone move. He placed the cambric tea in front of the woman. The stranger bravely picked up the drink.
Cautiously, Darin grabbed the stranger by her scalp, trying to kiss her passionately on her larynx. The stranger waddled up, seized Darin by the bladder, and with a decent raised eyebrow, dragged him to a nearby china hutch and turned him on his brain.
"Maybe you're gonna be more polite to a lady from now on," the stranger shouted intensely. "The name's Reba, and I don't expect you're gonna forget it."
Darin sputtered busily until Reba let go and sagely turned away with an attractive sneeze. Suddenly, Darin reached into his cocktail dress and pulled out a rose. "Hold it right there, sweetheart. I got something for you, doll."
Reba turned peevishly, drew her bad breath, and faced Darin. "You sure you wanna try that, Mr. Sober? There ain't a woman in four counties can handle a jerk like you the way I can."
The two stared at each other carefully for what seemed like an eternity. Finally, Darin lowered his rose. "Okay baby, you win," Darin orated viciously. "You got a lotta skins for a woman. No hard feelings?" He held out his hand toward her. Reba took his hand with a timid shrug. "You know, sugar, you're kinda distressed when you're angry."
Darin chose to take this as a compliment. "Come on, I'll buy you another cambric tea," he disputed.