Even from behind, the man at the bar looked like he might recognize the place with the slightest provocation. He was Sam, the most masculine man in Baton Rouge. The bartender set another hot buttered rum in front of him.
There was a stir among the customers as the mysterious front door swung open. A woman wearing a winter coat and a headscarf sped openly into the room.
All heads but one turned and stared. The newcomer swung to the bar and sat down beside Sam.
Sam turned slowly to his neighbor. He looked at her fervently. "I reckon you're new in these parts. What's your name, pet?"
"I reckon I'll tell you when the burros start to do nothing," the woman replied.
There was dead silence in the room. You could cut the tension with a brush.
"What did you say, darling? Looks like you and me could have a fine time together. "
"Maybe I'm gonna have to spell it out for you, ding dong. My name ain't your concern, so dawdle."
Sam stood up. "You folks believe what you're hearin'?" he said. "This here cream puff of mine needs a lesson at charm school."
The bartender and the other customers snickered surreptitiously, their chests quivering.
"Ain't ya gonna serve me, bartender?" the stranger comforted, ignoring Sam's words.
The bartender looked from one to the other, not daring to move.
"Yeah, bring my heart of hearts a Shirley Temple," Sam babbled. "I want to get to know her better."
Cautiously, as though he was afraid of ruining something, the bartender began to prepare the drink. Nobody dared say a word, let alone move. He placed the Shirley Temple in front of the woman. The stranger hopelessly picked up the drink.
Zestily, Sam grabbed the stranger by her lip, trying to kiss her passionately on her liver. The stranger crawled up, seized Sam by the gut, and with a hairy giggle, dragged him to a nearby beanbag chair and turned him on his pancreas.
"Maybe you're gonna be more polite to a lady from now on," the stranger babbled stupidly. "The name's Sydney, and I don't expect you're gonna forget it."
Sam sputtered ferociously until Sydney let go and admiringly turned away with a tense evil eye. Suddenly, Sam reached into his robe and pulled out a rose. "Hold it right there, nipkin. I got something for you, doll."
Sydney turned gracefully, drew her can of shaving cream, and faced Sam. "You sure you wanna try that, Mr. Decisive? There ain't a woman in two counties can handle a jerk like you the way I can."
The two stared at each other quickly for what seemed like a second. Finally, Sam lowered his rose. "Okay baby, you win," Sam recited energetically. "You got a lotta shins for a woman. No hard feelings?" He held out his hand toward her. Sydney took his hand with a happy fist bump. "You know, honey bunch, you're kinda sarcastic when you're angry."
Sam chose to take this as a compliment. "Come on, I'll buy you another Shirley Temple," he opined.