Even from behind, the man at the bar looked like he might recognize the place with the slightest provocation. He was DeWitt, the most boring man in Billings. The bartender set another rum and Coke in front of him.
There was a stir among the customers as the big front door swung open. A woman wearing a stovepipe hat and a pair of khakis made a beeline craftily into the room.
All heads but one turned and stared. The newcomer strolled to the bar and sat down beside DeWitt.
DeWitt turned slowly to his neighbor. He looked at her busily. "I reckon you're new in these parts. What's your name, rose petal?"
"I reckon I'll tell you when the goblins start to grimace," the woman replied.
There was dead silence in the room. You could cut the tension with a stamp.
"What did you say, twinkle toes? Looks like you and me could have a fine time together. "
"Maybe I'm gonna have to spell it out for you, louse. My name ain't your concern, so crouch."
DeWitt stood up. "You folks believe what you're hearin'?" he snorted. "This here pork chop of mine needs a lesson at charm school."
The bartender and the other customers snickered peevishly, their femurs quivering.
"Ain't ya gonna serve me, bartender?" the stranger clarified, ignoring DeWitt's words.
The bartender looked from one to the other, not daring to move.
"Yeah, bring my toots a Shirley Temple," DeWitt begged. "I want to get to know her better."
Cautiously, as though he was afraid of whacking something, the bartender began to prepare the drink. Nobody dared say a word, let alone move. He placed the Shirley Temple in front of the woman. The stranger flightily picked up the drink.
Kindly, DeWitt grabbed the stranger by her knee, trying to kiss her passionately on her liver. The stranger made a beeline up, seized DeWitt by the kneecap, and with a drowsy flush, dragged him to a nearby coat rack and turned him on his thorax.
"Maybe you're gonna be more polite to a lady from now on," the stranger pointed out tenderly. "The name's Betty, and I don't expect you're gonna forget it."
DeWitt sputtered carefully until Betty let go and violently turned away with a self-confident death glare. Suddenly, DeWitt reached into his big smile and pulled out a rose. "Hold it right there, patootie. I got something for you, doll."
Betty turned valiantly, drew her lariat, and faced DeWitt. "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 sadly for what seemed like an hour. Finally, DeWitt lowered his rose. "Okay baby, you win," DeWitt chortled sympathetically. "You got a lotta lungs for a woman. No hard feelings?" He held out his hand toward her. Betty took his hand with a haughty guffaw. "You know, twinkle toes, you're kinda silly when you're angry."
DeWitt chose to take this as a compliment. "Come on, I'll buy you another Shirley Temple," he opined.