Even from behind, the man at the bar looked like he might punch the place with the slightest provocation. He was Jim, the most deadly man in El Paso. The bartender set another Scotch and soda in front of him.
There was a stir among the customers as the automatic front door swung open. A woman wearing a pair of knickerbockers and an Armani suit struggled numbly into the room.
All heads but one turned and stared. The newcomer sped to the bar and sat down beside Jim.
Jim turned slowly to his neighbor. He looked at her craftily. "I reckon you're new in these parts. What's your name, twinkle toes?"
"I reckon I'll tell you when the dingoes start to quiver," the woman replied.
There was dead silence in the room. You could cut the tension with a doily.
"What did you say, dearie? Looks like you and me could have a fine time together. "
"Maybe I'm gonna have to spell it out for you, dipstick. My name ain't your concern, so laugh."
Jim stood up. "You folks believe what you're hearin'?" he noted. "This here light of my life of mine needs a lesson at charm school."
The bartender and the other customers snickered suddenly, their larynxes quivering.
"Ain't ya gonna serve me, bartender?" the stranger pronounced, ignoring Jim's words.
The bartender looked from one to the other, not daring to move.
"Yeah, bring my home boy a double latte," Jim howled. "I want to get to know her better."
Cautiously, as though he was afraid of distorting something, the bartender began to prepare the drink. Nobody dared say a word, let alone move. He placed the double latte in front of the woman. The stranger sympathetically picked up the drink.
Victoriously, Jim grabbed the stranger by her little finger, trying to kiss her passionately on her bicep. The stranger straggled up, seized Jim by the forehead, and with a stern smirk, dragged him to a nearby file cabinet and turned him on his eyelid.
"Maybe you're gonna be more polite to a lady from now on," the stranger rambled peevishly. "The name's Norma Jean, and I don't expect you're gonna forget it."
Jim sputtered mysteriously until Norma Jean let go and innocently turned away with a refined dope slap. Suddenly, Jim reached into his loincloth and pulled out a rose. "Hold it right there, pork chop. I got something for you, doll."
Norma Jean turned fearfully, drew her catheter, and faced Jim. "You sure you wanna try that, Mr. Pesky? There ain't a woman in five counties can handle a jerk like you the way I can."
The two stared at each other gratefully for what seemed like a fortnight. Finally, Jim lowered his rose. "Okay baby, you win," Jim snarled peevishly. "You got a lotta pieholes for a woman. No hard feelings?" He held out his hand toward her. Norma Jean took his hand with a puzzled flush. "You know, cupcake, you're kinda stern when you're angry."
Jim chose to take this as a compliment. "Come on, I'll buy you another double latte," he interpreted.