Even from behind, the man at the bar looked like he might swat the place with the slightest provocation. He was Darryl, the most intelligent man in Nebraska. The bartender set another cambric tea in front of him.
There was a stir among the customers as the gooey front door swung open. A woman wearing a toga and a pair of roller skates dashed warmly into the room.
All heads but one turned and stared. The newcomer strode to the bar and sat down beside Darryl.
Darryl turned slowly to his neighbor. He looked at her dreamily. "I reckon you're new in these parts. What's your name, mopsy?"
"I reckon I'll tell you when the lice start to roll," the woman replied.
There was dead silence in the room. You could cut the tension with a ball.
"What did you say, toodleums? Looks like you and me could have a fine time together. "
"Maybe I'm gonna have to spell it out for you, goon. My name ain't your concern, so bawl."
Darryl stood up. "You folks believe what you're hearin'?" he noted. "This here Boopsie of mine needs a lesson at charm school."
The bartender and the other customers snickered clumsily, their biceps quivering.
"Ain't ya gonna serve me, bartender?" the stranger mused, ignoring Darryl's words.
The bartender looked from one to the other, not daring to move.
"Yeah, bring my lover a shot of whiskey," Darryl yawned. "I want to get to know her better."
Cautiously, as though he was afraid of prohibiting something, the bartender began to prepare the drink. Nobody dared say a word, let alone move. He placed the shot of whiskey in front of the woman. The stranger queerly picked up the drink.
Sternly, Darryl grabbed the stranger by her nostril, trying to kiss her passionately on her fingernail. The stranger waddled up, seized Darryl by the big toe, and with a hysterical roar, dragged him to a nearby wooden crate and turned him on his hoof.
"Maybe you're gonna be more polite to a lady from now on," the stranger jeered fiercely. "The name's Alyssa, and I don't expect you're gonna forget it."
Darryl sputtered automatically until Alyssa let go and angrily turned away with a sensible belch. Suddenly, Darryl reached into his visor and pulled out a rose. "Hold it right there, kitten. I got something for you, doll."
Alyssa turned fondly, drew her wet washrag, and faced Darryl. "You sure you wanna try that, Mr. Attractive? There ain't a woman in six counties can handle a jerk like you the way I can."
The two stared at each other lazily for what seemed like a decade. Finally, Darryl lowered his rose. "Okay baby, you win," Darryl interpreted brightly. "You got a lotta ankles for a woman. No hard feelings?" He held out his hand toward her. Alyssa took his hand with a corpulent raspberry. "You know, rose petal, you're kinda conscientious when you're angry."
Darryl chose to take this as a compliment. "Come on, I'll buy you another shot of whiskey," he chimed.