Gloria Steelman was a feminist. She didn't exactly know how she became a confirmed man hater. Perhaps it was the pain of unfairly having to compete against inferior males. In a fair world, she would have been the department head in the field of particle physics at the Ivy League University where she taught.
It indeed was a man's world, and her struggle to break the glass ceiling alienated her from the opposite sex. Somewhere along the way she determined that if it weren't for the fact that men were sperm factories and necessary for the race to continue, the world would be better off without them.
Gloria looked up from her computer screen and decided that her experiment was ready. When she pushed the red button on her time warp device, she should transport to Abilene TX circa 1876. Her test convinced her that she would appear in an alleyway near the center of the old west town.
She crossed her fingers and closed her eyes and pushed the button.
What a smell!
The first thing she experienced was the horrible aroma of cow manure and sweat! She cautiously opened one eye and then grinned when she stared around at the clapboard walls between the two old west buildings where she stood.
The barber spun the chair around so that Jubal Jones could examine his handiwork. His image reflected in the mirror mounted on the back wall of the one chair shop.
"That's nice partner!" said Jubal admiring his shaved face and oiled down haircut nicely parted in the middle.
He smoothed down his freshly waxed mustache and reached into his vest pocket.
"Here's an extra nickel for the bath and the hot towel," he said handing the coin to the smiling barber.
He admired the fit of his store-bought clothes and settled his new hat over his head. He adjusted the brim and complimented the barber once again as he opened the door and stepped out onto the boardwalk.
Jubal took a cheroot from his shirt pocket and struck a lucifer match on the tight fabric on the back of his raised leg. He glanced over at the ally across the way and then cupped his hand around his smoke to light it. When he looked up, a young woman was standing where there wasn't one before. Her clothes were sparse, and she was showing her ankles and knees too. His face lit up with a wicked grin.
"She must have come out of a side door of the saloon," he thought to himself.
Now Jubal was new in town, having sold his part of the herd he and Mr. Rawlin's crew of cowboys brought up from the Texas coast. They had been on the trail for eight weeks, and he was clean and fresh and looking for whiskey and the type of woman his momma had always told him to avoid.
The whiskey was easy. The saloon was only across the street and as for the woman? There she stood, looking around at her surroundings like she just woke up from a week-long drunk.
"Howdy ma'am," he said weaving his way through the cow paddies and horse droppings that littered the main street.
He approached Gloria and tipped his hat.
"Uh, hi," said Gloria. She had hoped to observe the locals without being noticed. Busted!
"I thought I might buy you a drink ma'am, you look like you need 'The Hair of the Dog,' " he said cordially.
"No thank you," said Gloria hoping to rid herself of his company.
"Why there's no trouble at all ma'am," said Jubal taking her arm and guiding her toward the saloon door, "come on let me buy you some coffee, I just drove a herd into town, and I have cash in my pockets, and I'm paying for fun!"
Gloria whipped her arm out of his grasp just as he opened the swinging door for her. She stared him up and down like he was some vile insect that she should squish under her foot.
"I can open doors for myself!" she snapped.
"I always open doors for ladies, ma'am," said Jubal.
"I'm no lady!" said Gloria, "AND QUIT CALLING ME MA'AM!"
"I know you're no lady ma'am, but I'm a gentleman, so I'm gonna open the door!"
Gloria was spluttering a reply when Jubal retook her arm and guided her toward a table. He pulled out one of four chairs and waited for her to sit.
Gloria stepped away from him and pulled the next chair out and sat down glaring at him. Jubal smiled. "Have it your way," he said and walked around the table and sat down opposite her.
The saloon was similar to a modern-day bar and grill serving meals as well as whiskey.
Jubal waved over the Chinese waiter and said, "I'll have a double whiskey and bring the lady a cup of black coffee."
"I told you I'm no lady," she said, and I don't want anything.
"I know you're no lady," said Jubal. "Heck I can see that by the paint ya got on yer face and them dangly earrings. Shoot, I can spot a saloon girl a mile off. Let me buy you some breakfast, and then we can go upstairs," he said giving her a wink.
"A SALOON GIRL!" screamed Gloria.
"Why you smartass chauvinist PIG! You take that back, or I'll skin you alive!"
Jubal sat back and smiled at her. He SMILED AT HER!
"By jingo! I like spunk in a woman for sure, and I been called a lot of names too, but I don't think I know that variety of hog. Is that anything like the Yorkshire breed?"
About that time the Chinaman approached with a cup of black coffee supported on a small porcelain plate and a tumbler of the most excellent whiskey the house could offer. He placed them in front of his guests.
Gloria was livid!
"Why you arrogant, pompous asshole!" she said.
She stood up, snatched the glass of whiskey and threw it in Jubal's face. He sat back astonished.
"Now, ma'am there ain't no need for that!" he sputtered.
"I TOLD YOU NOT TO CALL ME MA'AM!" she screamed and tossed the steaming cup of coffee at him. Jubal fell over backward in his chair wiping the hot liquid off his chest and neck. He scrambled to his feet sputtering and cussing.
"Gloria seized the small plate from the table and waved it at him menacingly."
"NOW HOLD ON THERE MA'AM," hollered Jubal.
"I TOLD YOU NOT TO CALL ME MA'AM!" screeched Gloria drawing her arm back to throw.
Jubal turned to run and made it to the swinging door before Gloria could recover. She chased after him and taking careful aim launched the small platter Frisby style.
Jubal dodged to the left, and the sailing chinaware caught him just over the ear bringing him down into the manure and muck.
And, folks, this is how an 1800's era cowboy ran into a flying saucer.