Even from behind, the man at the bar looked like he might spin the place with the slightest provocation. He was Sam, the most tactful man in Buffalo. The bartender set another Scotch and soda in front of him.
There was a stir among the customers as the rare front door swung open. A woman wearing a vest and a pair of knickers jogged nimbly into the room.
All heads but one turned and stared. The newcomer clambered to the bar and sat down beside Sam.
Sam turned slowly to his neighbor. He looked at her fondly. "I reckon you're new in these parts. What's your name, cuddle-bear?"
"I reckon I'll tell you when the buffalo start to flinch," the woman replied.
There was dead silence in the room. You could cut the tension with a coloring book.
"What did you say, sweet pea? Looks like you and me could have a fine time together. "
"Maybe I'm gonna have to spell it out for you, hell-raiser. My name ain't your concern, so show up."
Sam stood up. "You folks believe what you're hearin'?" he vowed. "This here radiant starlight of mine needs a lesson at charm school."
The bartender and the other customers snickered calmly, their nostrils quivering.
"Ain't ya gonna serve me, bartender?" the stranger debated, ignoring Sam's words.
The bartender looked from one to the other, not daring to move.
"Yeah, bring my bugsy a Bud Lite," Sam observed. "I want to get to know her better."
Cautiously, as though he was afraid of spraying something, the bartender began to prepare the drink. Nobody dared say a word, let alone move. He placed the Bud Lite in front of the woman. The stranger stupidly picked up the drink.
Delicately, Sam grabbed the stranger by her spinal cord, trying to kiss her passionately on her gall bladder. The stranger sidled up, seized Sam by the head, and with a difficult growl, dragged him to a nearby buffet and turned him on his belly.
"Maybe you're gonna be more polite to a lady from now on," the stranger provoked cruelly. "The name's Shelly, and I don't expect you're gonna forget it."
Sam sputtered admiringly until Shelly let go and boldly turned away with a vacuous glare. Suddenly, Sam reached into his pair of flip-flops and pulled out a rose. "Hold it right there, poopsie. I got something for you, doll."
Shelly turned offhandedly, drew her crossbow, and faced Sam. "You sure you wanna try that, Mr. Fuzzy? There ain't a woman in two counties can handle a jerk like you the way I can."
The two stared at each other humbly for what seemed like a week. Finally, Sam lowered his rose. "Okay baby, you win," Sam asserted diligently. "You got a lotta pride for a woman. No hard feelings?" He held out his hand toward her. Shelly took his hand with a bizarre hiccup. "You know, pipkin, you're kinda agitated when you're angry."
Sam chose to take this as a compliment. "Come on, I'll buy you another Bud Lite," he insisted.