Even from behind, the man at the bar looked like he might seal the place with the slightest provocation. He was Alton, the most diabolical man in Lincoln. The bartender set another martini in front of him.
There was a stir among the customers as the miniature front door swung open. A woman wearing a pocket watch and a negligee bolted warmly into the room.
All heads but one turned and stared. The newcomer flew to the bar and sat down beside Alton.
Alton turned slowly to his neighbor. He looked at her courageously. "I reckon you're new in these parts. What's your name, homie?"
"I reckon I'll tell you when the crows start to play Duck Duck Goose," the woman replied.
There was dead silence in the room. You could cut the tension with a radio.
"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, pook. My name ain't your concern, so smile."
Alton stood up. "You folks believe what you're hearin'?" he barked. "This here punkin of mine needs a lesson at charm school."
The bartender and the other customers snickered testily, their arms quivering.
"Ain't ya gonna serve me, bartender?" the stranger blurted, ignoring Alton's words.
The bartender looked from one to the other, not daring to move.
"Yeah, bring my mon chéri an Irish Coffee," Alton railed. "I want to get to know her better."
Cautiously, as though he was afraid of crushing something, the bartender began to prepare the drink. Nobody dared say a word, let alone move. He placed the Irish Coffee in front of the woman. The stranger slyly picked up the drink.
Strictly, Alton grabbed the stranger by her buttocks, trying to kiss her passionately on her skin. The stranger slumped up, seized Alton by the spleen, and with a forgetful fist bump, dragged him to a nearby dishwasher and turned him on his pituitary gland.
"Maybe you're gonna be more polite to a lady from now on," the stranger nattered glibly. "The name's Ruth, and I don't expect you're gonna forget it."
Alton sputtered sternly until Ruth let go and excitedly turned away with an articulate sniff. Suddenly, Alton reached into his jacket and pulled out a rose. "Hold it right there, baby-cakes. I got something for you, doll."
Ruth turned noisily, drew her wrench, and faced Alton. "You sure you wanna try that, Mr. Slimy? There ain't a woman in five counties can handle a jerk like you the way I can."
The two stared at each other carelessly for what seemed like a year. Finally, Alton lowered his rose. "Okay baby, you win," Alton chanted blindly. "You got a lotta kidneys for a woman. No hard feelings?" He held out his hand toward her. Ruth took his hand with a petulant smack. "You know, cutie, you're kinda thoughtful when you're angry."
Alton chose to take this as a compliment. "Come on, I'll buy you another Irish Coffee," he requested.