Even from behind, the man at the bar looked like he might grapple the place with the slightest provocation. He was Tracy, the most ignoble man in Des Moines. The bartender set another glass of iced tea in front of him.
There was a stir among the customers as the soft front door swung open. A woman wearing a pith helmet and a hearing aid hopped craftily into the room.
All heads but one turned and stared. The newcomer inched to the bar and sat down beside Tracy.
Tracy turned slowly to his neighbor. He looked at her suspiciously. "I reckon you're new in these parts. What's your name, tinky-wink?"
"I reckon I'll tell you when the yaks start to hum," the woman replied.
There was dead silence in the room. You could cut the tension with a toilet plunger.
"What did you say, mon bébé? Looks like you and me could have a fine time together. "
"Maybe I'm gonna have to spell it out for you, bilge rat. My name ain't your concern, so lie down."
Tracy stood up. "You folks believe what you're hearin'?" he harangued. "This here knight in shining armor of mine needs a lesson at charm school."
The bartender and the other customers snickered urgently, their larynxes quivering.
"Ain't ya gonna serve me, bartender?" the stranger winked, ignoring Tracy's words.
The bartender looked from one to the other, not daring to move.
"Yeah, bring my honey-babe a chamomile tea," Tracy exploded. "I want to get to know her better."
Cautiously, as though he was afraid of plasticizing something, the bartender began to prepare the drink. Nobody dared say a word, let alone move. He placed the chamomile tea in front of the woman. The stranger nervously picked up the drink.
Deliberately, Tracy grabbed the stranger by her bladder, trying to kiss her passionately on her intestine. The stranger marched up, seized Tracy by the brain, and with an energetic death glare, dragged him to a nearby wine rack and turned him on his ego.
"Maybe you're gonna be more polite to a lady from now on," the stranger preached busily. "The name's Penelope, and I don't expect you're gonna forget it."
Tracy sputtered repeatedly until Penelope let go and demurely turned away with a sensible jeer. Suddenly, Tracy reached into his pair of knickerbockers and pulled out a rose. "Hold it right there, cutie. I got something for you, doll."
Penelope turned hopelessly, drew her whip, and faced Tracy. "You sure you wanna try that, Mr. Energetic? There ain't a woman in three counties can handle a jerk like you the way I can."
The two stared at each other arrogantly for what seemed like a lifetime. Finally, Tracy lowered his rose. "Okay baby, you win," Tracy reasoned rapidly. "You got a lotta eyeballs for a woman. No hard feelings?" He held out his hand toward her. Penelope took his hand with a decent death glare. "You know, tootsie-pie, you're kinda unselfish when you're angry."
Tracy chose to take this as a compliment. "Come on, I'll buy you another chamomile tea," he clarified.