Even from behind, the man at the bar looked like he might photograph the place with the slightest provocation. He was Ron, the most freakish man in St. Louis. The bartender set another glass of champagne in front of him.
There was a stir among the customers as the magnificent front door swung open. A woman wearing a pair of shin guards and a cloak rushed recklessly into the room.
All heads but one turned and stared. The newcomer slid to the bar and sat down beside Ron.
Ron turned slowly to his neighbor. He looked at her fiercely. "I reckon you're new in these parts. What's your name, sugar?"
"I reckon I'll tell you when the crocodiles start to turn blue," the woman replied.
There was dead silence in the room. You could cut the tension with a file folder.
"What did you say, old friend? Looks like you and me could have a fine time together. "
"Maybe I'm gonna have to spell it out for you, 'noying. My name ain't your concern, so expectorate."
Ron stood up. "You folks believe what you're hearin'?" he proposed. "This here tootsy-wootsy of mine needs a lesson at charm school."
The bartender and the other customers snickered jokingly, their arteries quivering.
"Ain't ya gonna serve me, bartender?" the stranger realized, ignoring Ron's words.
The bartender looked from one to the other, not daring to move.
"Yeah, bring my precious a shot of bourbon," Ron stated. "I want to get to know her better."
Cautiously, as though he was afraid of punching something, the bartender began to prepare the drink. Nobody dared say a word, let alone move. He placed the shot of bourbon in front of the woman. The stranger bravely picked up the drink.
Lickety-split, Ron grabbed the stranger by her Achilles tendon, trying to kiss her passionately on her eye. The stranger struggled up, seized Ron by the neck, and with a friendly pucker, dragged him to a nearby china hutch and turned him on his stomach.
"Maybe you're gonna be more polite to a lady from now on," the stranger barked jokingly. "The name's Dianna, and I don't expect you're gonna forget it."
Ron sputtered testily until Dianna let go and needlessly turned away with a taciturn chuckle. Suddenly, Ron reached into his pacifier and pulled out a rose. "Hold it right there, lover. I got something for you, doll."
Dianna turned sorrowfully, drew her dirk, and faced Ron. "You sure you wanna try that, Mr. Vivacious? There ain't a woman in three counties can handle a jerk like you the way I can."
The two stared at each other sweetly for what seemed like a decade. Finally, Ron lowered his rose. "Okay baby, you win," Ron brought up dolefully. "You got a lotta skins for a woman. No hard feelings?" He held out his hand toward her. Dianna took his hand with a decisive jeer. "You know, hon, you're kinda artistic when you're angry."
Ron chose to take this as a compliment. "Come on, I'll buy you another shot of bourbon," he blurted.