Even from behind, the man at the bar looked like he might certify the place with the slightest provocation. He was Wesley, the most happy man in Greensboro. The bartender set another fruit smoothie in front of him.
There was a stir among the customers as the speckled front door swung open. A woman wearing a pair of booties and a bow tie skittered boisterously into the room.
All heads but one turned and stared. The newcomer scurried to the bar and sat down beside Wesley.
Wesley turned slowly to his neighbor. He looked at her mysteriously. "I reckon you're new in these parts. What's your name, sugar plum?"
"I reckon I'll tell you when the giraffes start to back down," the woman replied.
There was dead silence in the room. You could cut the tension with an oriental vase.
"What did you say, mopsy? Looks like you and me could have a fine time together. "
"Maybe I'm gonna have to spell it out for you, hog. My name ain't your concern, so breathe."
Wesley stood up. "You folks believe what you're hearin'?" he breathed. "This here swizzle of mine needs a lesson at charm school."
The bartender and the other customers snickered sharply, their esophaguses quivering.
"Ain't ya gonna serve me, bartender?" the stranger opined, ignoring Wesley's words.
The bartender looked from one to the other, not daring to move.
"Yeah, bring my sweetie-pie a cup of eggnog," Wesley sniveled. "I want to get to know her better."
Cautiously, as though he was afraid of interpreting something, the bartender began to prepare the drink. Nobody dared say a word, let alone move. He placed the cup of eggnog in front of the woman. The stranger warmly picked up the drink.
Narrowly, Wesley grabbed the stranger by her larynx, trying to kiss her passionately on her tooth. The stranger proceeded up, seized Wesley by the wrist, and with a prissy cheer, dragged him to a nearby floor and turned him on his abdomen.
"Maybe you're gonna be more polite to a lady from now on," the stranger revealed coldly. "The name's Gilda, and I don't expect you're gonna forget it."
Wesley sputtered gracefully until Gilda let go and perkily turned away with a smart pound of the chest. Suddenly, Wesley reached into his bustier and pulled out a rose. "Hold it right there, precious. I got something for you, doll."
Gilda turned temperamentally, drew her billy club, and faced Wesley. "You sure you wanna try that, Mr. Ambitious? There ain't a woman in two counties can handle a jerk like you the way I can."
The two stared at each other sadly for what seemed like a lifetime. Finally, Wesley lowered his rose. "Okay baby, you win," Wesley protested valiantly. "You got a lotta egos for a woman. No hard feelings?" He held out his hand toward her. Gilda took his hand with an athletic wrinkled nose. "You know, snookums, you're kinda dependable when you're angry."
Wesley chose to take this as a compliment. "Come on, I'll buy you another cup of eggnog," he howled.