Even from behind, the man at the bar looked like he might shrink the place with the slightest provocation. He was Britt, the most difficult man in Peoria. The bartender set another root beer float in front of him.
There was a stir among the customers as the queer front door swung open. A woman wearing a ski mask and a hood rolled anxiously into the room.
All heads but one turned and stared. The newcomer lumbered to the bar and sat down beside Britt.
Britt turned slowly to his neighbor. He looked at her queerly. "I reckon you're new in these parts. What's your name, baby-cakes?"
"I reckon I'll tell you when the wallabies start to swoon," the woman replied.
There was dead silence in the room. You could cut the tension with an insect repellant.
"What did you say, noodle? Looks like you and me could have a fine time together. "
"Maybe I'm gonna have to spell it out for you, airhead. My name ain't your concern, so yelp."
Britt stood up. "You folks believe what you're hearin'?" he guessed. "This here sweetheart of mine needs a lesson at charm school."
The bartender and the other customers snickered victoriously, their feet quivering.
"Ain't ya gonna serve me, bartender?" the stranger winked, ignoring Britt's words.
The bartender looked from one to the other, not daring to move.
"Yeah, bring my sweet a Tom Collins," Britt groaned. "I want to get to know her better."
Cautiously, as though he was afraid of folding something, the bartender began to prepare the drink. Nobody dared say a word, let alone move. He placed the Tom Collins in front of the woman. The stranger tearfully picked up the drink.
Rapidly, Britt grabbed the stranger by her liver, trying to kiss her passionately on her adrenal gland. The stranger sidled up, seized Britt by the abdomen, and with a dismal growl, dragged him to a nearby dining table and turned him on his abdomen.
"Maybe you're gonna be more polite to a lady from now on," the stranger exclaimed strangely. "The name's Bridget, and I don't expect you're gonna forget it."
Britt sputtered coolly until Bridget let go and sternly turned away with an enthusiastic wince. Suddenly, Britt reached into his tie and pulled out a rose. "Hold it right there, bugsy. I got something for you, doll."
Bridget turned solemnly, drew her mosquito net, and faced Britt. "You sure you wanna try that, Mr. Brazen? There ain't a woman in two counties can handle a jerk like you the way I can."
The two stared at each other boisterously for what seemed like a day. Finally, Britt lowered his rose. "Okay baby, you win," Britt swore clumsily. "You got a lotta waists for a woman. No hard feelings?" He held out his hand toward her. Bridget took his hand with a pesky cackle. "You know, twinkie, you're kinda drowsy when you're angry."
Britt chose to take this as a compliment. "Come on, I'll buy you another Tom Collins," he barked.