Tales of a Southern Gentleman: Easily Annoyed

Vern doesn’t often drink, but when he does every tough muscle in his body dissipates instantly. Especially when harsher liquors are involved.  

“What’s a tall drink of water like you doing in a place like this? Did you come with the place?” A blonde woman asks, sliding up beside him. 

“Pardon, ma’am?” His accent was thicker now that he’d downed a few glasses of whiskey. The woman giggles sheepishly, her face blushing slightly. 

“Wow, I don’t think you could get any more Western than this.”

“I’m from the South, ma’am.” Vernon responds, tapping his empty glass against the countertop to get the bartender's attention. “Y’ sound like you’re from California.” 

“That I am.” She nods. “You’re a real cowboy ‘ain’t’ ya?” Her mocking of his accent sends a pang of anger through his veins. 

“I ain’t nobody.” The bartender fills his glass once more. Vern nodded to him in thanks while throwing it back immediately. “Nobody important anyways.” 

“Aw, come on. You’re not some… method actor getting ready for a role? People like you only exist in the movies. At least,” Her eyes trail his body, “One’s as good-looking as you.” 

“I think it’s best you move along ma’am, I’m not much in the mood tonight ta entertain a woman like you.” She scoffs at his harsh words, that bitchy California entitlement coming to a boil. 

“A, A woman like me?! A boy like you would be absolutely honored to even deal with a woman like me! Your so-called ‘Southern’ Charm isn’t shit! Don’t act like it’s so horrible that a woman as pretty as I am is hitting on you!” The woman had obviously had too much to drink, but Vernon had had more. Vernon stands up and places his glass calmly on the countertop. His hand rests on the bartop as he gets close to her. Real uncomfortably close. 

“Now I'm gonna be real nice to ya, since you’re a lady.” His voice dropped dangerously low. It was growling to an extent. “I came here after a long day to enjoy a quiet drink. Now, as a workin’ busy man, that’s not a lot to ask for. But then here you come runnin’ along with your shit pickup lines and biased assumptions tryin’ to get somethin’ you know you can’t have.” Vernon gets even closer to her face to make sure she really listens. “I’m normally a very patient man, learned that on my own. But you are really pushin’ my buttons lady and I may just snap if you as so much dare to come at me again with your attitude.” His eyes bore into hers, the devil peeking through in the dim orangish lighting of the bar. The small but subtle movement of his hand catches the corner of her eye. His silver revolver sitting pretty in his holster. “It’s best you get a move on now, little lady. Before I change my mind to leave work at the door.” The woman stands up slowly and starts to back away, her 'frozen-in-the-headlights' gaze remaining on him. “There ya go, go on. Get.” And Get she does. Vernon takes his seat once more at the bar, his shoulders relaxing. “Another.” His glass taps again. 

“You gotta stop scaring our customers, Vermin.” The bartender just gives him the bottle of whiskey. 

“Stop havin’ em annoy me when I'm tryna relax then.” He chuckles, taking a swig from the bottle. He places some money on the counter and stands up. “I’ll be next door.” 

“You want me to send-”

“Unless you want a dead body on your hands, no, thanks.” Tipping his hat to him he heads towards the front of the saloon. His spurs create a small symphony against the wooden floor as the lone cowboy makes his exit, all eyes following him out.