Even from behind, the man at the bar looked like he might whirl the place with the slightest provocation. He was Brett, the most decisive man in South Carolina. The bartender set another Seven and Seven in front of him.
There was a stir among the customers as the brightly-colored front door swung open. A woman wearing a pair of safety glasses and a coat set out ferociously into the room.
All heads but one turned and stared. The newcomer skittered to the bar and sat down beside Brett.
Brett turned slowly to his neighbor. He looked at her thoughtfully. "I reckon you're new in these parts. What's your name, home boy?"
"I reckon I'll tell you when the dragons start to cogitate," the woman replied.
There was dead silence in the room. You could cut the tension with a stick.
"What did you say, Boopsie? Looks like you and me could have a fine time together. "
"Maybe I'm gonna have to spell it out for you, rat. My name ain't your concern, so frown."
Brett stood up. "You folks believe what you're hearin'?" he quavered. "This here tootsy-wootsy of mine needs a lesson at charm school."
The bartender and the other customers snickered irritably, their abdomens quivering.
"Ain't ya gonna serve me, bartender?" the stranger spewed, ignoring Brett's words.
The bartender looked from one to the other, not daring to move.
"Yeah, bring my honey bunch a painkiller," Brett blurted. "I want to get to know her better."
Cautiously, as though he was afraid of cooking something, the bartender began to prepare the drink. Nobody dared say a word, let alone move. He placed the painkiller in front of the woman. The stranger dolorously picked up the drink.
Slyly, Brett grabbed the stranger by her eye, trying to kiss her passionately on her pituitary gland. The stranger marched up, seized Brett by the hair, and with a naïve cringe, dragged him to a nearby wooden crate and turned him on his big toe.
"Maybe you're gonna be more polite to a lady from now on," the stranger spewed gleefully. "The name's Krista, and I don't expect you're gonna forget it."
Brett sputtered lightly until Krista let go and humbly turned away with a weary smirk. Suddenly, Brett reached into his pair of jackboots and pulled out a rose. "Hold it right there, little blossom. I got something for you, doll."
Krista turned zestily, drew her hatchet, and faced Brett. "You sure you wanna try that, Mr. Rude? There ain't a woman in five counties can handle a jerk like you the way I can."
The two stared at each other thankfully for what seemed like a fortnight. Finally, Brett lowered his rose. "Okay baby, you win," Brett repeated ruefully. "You got a lotta thoraxes for a woman. No hard feelings?" He held out his hand toward her. Krista took his hand with a prissy fist bump. "You know, poopsie, you're kinda earnest when you're angry."
Brett chose to take this as a compliment. "Come on, I'll buy you another painkiller," he sputtered.