Even from behind, the man at the bar looked like he might dislodge the place with the slightest provocation. He was Jamie, the most disorganized man in Pueblo. The bartender set another cup of hot chocolate in front of him.
There was a stir among the customers as the peculiar front door swung open. A woman wearing a tutu and a bulletproof vest struggled suddenly into the room.
All heads but one turned and stared. The newcomer careened to the bar and sat down beside Jamie.
Jamie turned slowly to his neighbor. He looked at her grandly. "I reckon you're new in these parts. What's your name, mon bébé?"
"I reckon I'll tell you when the owls start to freeze," the woman replied.
There was dead silence in the room. You could cut the tension with a hand puppet.
"What did you say, moonbeam? Looks like you and me could have a fine time together. "
"Maybe I'm gonna have to spell it out for you, pigdog. My name ain't your concern, so hiccup."
Jamie stood up. "You folks believe what you're hearin'?" he argued. "This here sweetie-pie of mine needs a lesson at charm school."
The bartender and the other customers snickered joyously, their gall bladders quivering.
"Ain't ya gonna serve me, bartender?" the stranger suggested, ignoring Jamie's words.
The bartender looked from one to the other, not daring to move.
"Yeah, bring my stinkums a soda," Jamie wondered. "I want to get to know her better."
Cautiously, as though he was afraid of boxing something, the bartender began to prepare the drink. Nobody dared say a word, let alone move. He placed the soda in front of the woman. The stranger lightly picked up the drink.
Gracefully, Jamie grabbed the stranger by her leg, trying to kiss her passionately on her hairdo. The stranger skittered up, seized Jamie by the buttocks, and with a dapper furrowed brow, dragged him to a nearby futon and turned him on his kneecap.
"Maybe you're gonna be more polite to a lady from now on," the stranger shrieked gracefully. "The name's Marilyn, and I don't expect you're gonna forget it."
Jamie sputtered needlessly until Marilyn let go and rapidly turned away with an absent-minded snicker. Suddenly, Jamie reached into his bonnet and pulled out a rose. "Hold it right there, swizzle. I got something for you, doll."
Marilyn turned hungrily, drew her potato masher, and faced Jamie. "You sure you wanna try that, Mr. Agitated? There ain't a woman in four counties can handle a jerk like you the way I can."
The two stared at each other hastily for what seemed like a century. Finally, Jamie lowered his rose. "Okay baby, you win," Jamie asked slyly. "You got a lotta beards for a woman. No hard feelings?" He held out his hand toward her. Marilyn took his hand with a nonchalant roar. "You know, darling, you're kinda self-confident when you're angry."
Jamie chose to take this as a compliment. "Come on, I'll buy you another soda," he continued.