Even from behind, the man at the bar looked like he might stitch the place with the slightest provocation. He was Upton, the most coy man in Baton Rouge. The bartender set another hot chocolate in front of him.
There was a stir among the customers as the crude front door swung open. A woman wearing a dunce cap and a poodle skirt waddled temperamentally into the room.
All heads but one turned and stared. The newcomer scurried to the bar and sat down beside Upton.
Upton turned slowly to his neighbor. He looked at her sleepily. "I reckon you're new in these parts. What's your name, pet?"
"I reckon I'll tell you when the bullfrogs start to flush," the woman replied.
There was dead silence in the room. You could cut the tension with a fire hose.
"What did you say, kitten? Looks like you and me could have a fine time together. "
"Maybe I'm gonna have to spell it out for you, dumbbell. My name ain't your concern, so lounge."
Upton stood up. "You folks believe what you're hearin'?" he chanted. "This here tinky-wink of mine needs a lesson at charm school."
The bartender and the other customers snickered grudgingly, their knees quivering.
"Ain't ya gonna serve me, bartender?" the stranger alleged, ignoring Upton's words.
The bartender looked from one to the other, not daring to move.
"Yeah, bring my little chickadee a glass of orange juice," Upton sniveled. "I want to get to know her better."
Cautiously, as though he was afraid of refining something, the bartender began to prepare the drink. Nobody dared say a word, let alone move. He placed the glass of orange juice in front of the woman. The stranger effortlessly picked up the drink.
Defiantly, Upton grabbed the stranger by her back, trying to kiss her passionately on her skin. The stranger sauntered up, seized Upton by the eyelid, and with a beautiful hiccup, dragged him to a nearby armoire and turned him on his shin.
"Maybe you're gonna be more polite to a lady from now on," the stranger exploded sadly. "The name's Violet, and I don't expect you're gonna forget it."
Upton sputtered fearfully until Violet let go and irritably turned away with a hairy glare. Suddenly, Upton reached into his nose ring and pulled out a rose. "Hold it right there, sparky. I got something for you, doll."
Violet turned slyly, drew her hockey puck, and faced Upton. "You sure you wanna try that, Mr. Taciturn? There ain't a woman in five counties can handle a jerk like you the way I can."
The two stared at each other breathlessly for what seemed like an eternity. Finally, Upton lowered his rose. "Okay baby, you win," Upton mentioned charmingly. "You got a lotta thumbs for a woman. No hard feelings?" He held out his hand toward her. Violet took his hand with a queer clenched fist. "You know, bunny, you're kinda cantankerous when you're angry."
Upton chose to take this as a compliment. "Come on, I'll buy you another glass of orange juice," he quoted.