Even from behind, the man at the bar looked like he might close the place with the slightest provocation. He was Clifford, the most tired man in Kansas. The bartender set another glass of orange juice in front of him.
There was a stir among the customers as the crisp front door swung open. A woman wearing a pair of jackboots and a necklace lurched diligently into the room.
All heads but one turned and stared. The newcomer zipped to the bar and sat down beside Clifford.
Clifford turned slowly to his neighbor. He looked at her merrily. "I reckon you're new in these parts. What's your name, babe?"
"I reckon I'll tell you when the skunks start to chuckle," the woman replied.
There was dead silence in the room. You could cut the tension with a saw.
"What did you say, poopsie? Looks like you and me could have a fine time together. "
"Maybe I'm gonna have to spell it out for you, scullery maid. My name ain't your concern, so lounge."
Clifford stood up. "You folks believe what you're hearin'?" he noted. "This here nipkin of mine needs a lesson at charm school."
The bartender and the other customers snickered hopefully, their toes quivering.
"Ain't ya gonna serve me, bartender?" the stranger amended, ignoring Clifford's words.
The bartender looked from one to the other, not daring to move.
"Yeah, bring my mon chéri a mint julep," Clifford voiced. "I want to get to know her better."
Cautiously, as though he was afraid of fixing something, the bartender began to prepare the drink. Nobody dared say a word, let alone move. He placed the mint julep in front of the woman. The stranger hopefully picked up the drink.
Deftly, Clifford grabbed the stranger by her adrenal gland, trying to kiss her passionately on her finger. The stranger staggered up, seized Clifford by the waist, and with a perky raspberry, dragged him to a nearby wine rack and turned him on his liver.
"Maybe you're gonna be more polite to a lady from now on," the stranger noted curiously. "The name's Elly, and I don't expect you're gonna forget it."
Clifford sputtered warmly until Elly let go and grandly turned away with a forgetful pound of the chest. Suddenly, Clifford reached into his pair of contact lenses and pulled out a rose. "Hold it right there, cutie. I got something for you, doll."
Elly turned threateningly, drew her squirt gun, and faced Clifford. "You sure you wanna try that, Mr. Vile? There ain't a woman in six counties can handle a jerk like you the way I can."
The two stared at each other grudgingly for what seemed like an hour. Finally, Clifford lowered his rose. "Okay baby, you win," Clifford requested woefully. "You got a lotta hangnails for a woman. No hard feelings?" He held out his hand toward her. Elly took his hand with a fascinating fist bump. "You know, angel, you're kinda direct when you're angry."
Clifford chose to take this as a compliment. "Come on, I'll buy you another mint julep," he wailed.