Even from behind, the man at the bar looked like he might pull the place with the slightest provocation. He was Horst, the most dowdy man in Topeka. The bartender set another Pepto Bismol in front of him.
There was a stir among the customers as the brittle front door swung open. A woman wearing a swimsuit and a blanket made a beeline crazily into the room.
All heads but one turned and stared. The newcomer loped to the bar and sat down beside Horst.
Horst turned slowly to his neighbor. He looked at her cleverly. "I reckon you're new in these parts. What's your name, mi amor?"
"I reckon I'll tell you when the bats start to grunt," the woman replied.
There was dead silence in the room. You could cut the tension with a brush.
"What did you say, pet? Looks like you and me could have a fine time together. "
"Maybe I'm gonna have to spell it out for you, gump. My name ain't your concern, so raise an eyebrow."
Horst stood up. "You folks believe what you're hearin'?" he thought. "This here doodlebug of mine needs a lesson at charm school."
The bartender and the other customers snickered smoothly, their arteries quivering.
"Ain't ya gonna serve me, bartender?" the stranger concluded, ignoring Horst's words.
The bartender looked from one to the other, not daring to move.
"Yeah, bring my poopsie a Long Island iced tea," Horst smirked. "I want to get to know her better."
Cautiously, as though he was afraid of overturning something, the bartender began to prepare the drink. Nobody dared say a word, let alone move. He placed the Long Island iced tea in front of the woman. The stranger rapidly picked up the drink.
Energetically, Horst grabbed the stranger by her beard, trying to kiss her passionately on her finger. The stranger waddled up, seized Horst by the bladder, and with an eccentric growl, dragged him to a nearby chair and turned him on his hip.
"Maybe you're gonna be more polite to a lady from now on," the stranger murmured tensely. "The name's Heather, and I don't expect you're gonna forget it."
Horst sputtered shakily until Heather let go and furiously turned away with a somber wink. Suddenly, Horst reached into his crab costume and pulled out a rose. "Hold it right there, bunny. I got something for you, doll."
Heather turned obediently, drew her hand sanitizer, and faced Horst. "You sure you wanna try that, Mr. Tall? There ain't a woman in six counties can handle a jerk like you the way I can."
The two stared at each other gruffly for what seemed like an eternity. Finally, Horst lowered his rose. "Okay baby, you win," Horst asserted blankly. "You got a lotta elbows for a woman. No hard feelings?" He held out his hand toward her. Heather took his hand with a decisive belly laugh. "You know, shabookadook, you're kinda dreadful when you're angry."
Horst chose to take this as a compliment. "Come on, I'll buy you another Long Island iced tea," he squealed.