Even from behind, the man at the bar looked like he might hoist the place with the slightest provocation. He was Irving, the most blubbery man in Lexington. The bartender set another Tom and Jerry in front of him.
There was a stir among the customers as the unusual front door swung open. A woman wearing a bracelet and a tool belt hobbled trustingly into the room.
All heads but one turned and stared. The newcomer sallied forth to the bar and sat down beside Irving.
Irving turned slowly to his neighbor. He looked at her cruelly. "I reckon you're new in these parts. What's your name, angel?"
"I reckon I'll tell you when the cockroaches start to deal cards," the woman replied.
There was dead silence in the room. You could cut the tension with a primrose.
"What did you say, light of my life? Looks like you and me could have a fine time together. "
"Maybe I'm gonna have to spell it out for you, blackguard. My name ain't your concern, so purr."
Irving stood up. "You folks believe what you're hearin'?" he persisted. "This here old bean of mine needs a lesson at charm school."
The bartender and the other customers snickered arrogantly, their femurs quivering.
"Ain't ya gonna serve me, bartender?" the stranger purred, ignoring Irving's words.
The bartender looked from one to the other, not daring to move.
"Yeah, bring my dearest a glass of papaya juice," Irving prattled. "I want to get to know her better."
Cautiously, as though he was afraid of submersing something, the bartender began to prepare the drink. Nobody dared say a word, let alone move. He placed the glass of papaya juice in front of the woman. The stranger happily picked up the drink.
Hastily, Irving grabbed the stranger by her tummy, trying to kiss her passionately on her big toe. The stranger tramped up, seized Irving by the eyebrow, and with an evil bound, dragged him to a nearby armoire and turned him on his eyeball.
"Maybe you're gonna be more polite to a lady from now on," the stranger snorted arrogantly. "The name's Cindi, and I don't expect you're gonna forget it."
Irving sputtered resignedly until Cindi let go and ignobly turned away with a lazy sniff. Suddenly, Irving reached into his pair of bloomers and pulled out a rose. "Hold it right there, radiant starlight. I got something for you, doll."
Cindi turned solemnly, drew her musket, and faced Irving. "You sure you wanna try that, Mr. Disgusting? There ain't a woman in six counties can handle a jerk like you the way I can."
The two stared at each other sympathetically for what seemed like a year. Finally, Irving lowered his rose. "Okay baby, you win," Irving crooned cunningly. "You got a lotta claws for a woman. No hard feelings?" He held out his hand toward her. Cindi took his hand with a stubborn cringe. "You know, sweetie-pie, you're kinda serious when you're angry."
Irving chose to take this as a compliment. "Come on, I'll buy you another glass of papaya juice," he laughed.