Even from behind, the man at the bar looked like he might describe the place with the slightest provocation. He was Morris, the most sincere man in the Virgin Islands. The bartender set another 7-Up in front of him.
There was a stir among the customers as the striped front door swung open. A woman wearing a pair of briefs and a beret strode trustingly into the room.
All heads but one turned and stared. The newcomer galloped to the bar and sat down beside Morris.
Morris turned slowly to his neighbor. He looked at her energetically. "I reckon you're new in these parts. What's your name, stinkums?"
"I reckon I'll tell you when the monkeys start to look dumb," the woman replied.
There was dead silence in the room. You could cut the tension with a whistle.
"What did you say, darling? Looks like you and me could have a fine time together. "
"Maybe I'm gonna have to spell it out for you, mangy rascal. My name ain't your concern, so wake up."
Morris stood up. "You folks believe what you're hearin'?" he debated. "This here babe of mine needs a lesson at charm school."
The bartender and the other customers snickered nimbly, their larynxes quivering.
"Ain't ya gonna serve me, bartender?" the stranger decided, ignoring Morris's words.
The bartender looked from one to the other, not daring to move.
"Yeah, bring my beefcake a glass of milk," Morris began. "I want to get to know her better."
Cautiously, as though he was afraid of condemning something, the bartender began to prepare the drink. Nobody dared say a word, let alone move. He placed the glass of milk in front of the woman. The stranger joyously picked up the drink.
Gratefully, Morris grabbed the stranger by her hoof, trying to kiss her passionately on her hairdo. The stranger crept up, seized Morris by the forehead, and with a quiet glare, dragged him to a nearby pedestal and turned him on his wig.
"Maybe you're gonna be more polite to a lady from now on," the stranger explained pitifully. "The name's Lillian, and I don't expect you're gonna forget it."
Morris sputtered energetically until Lillian let go and flightily turned away with a dismal sneer. Suddenly, Morris reached into his visor and pulled out a rose. "Hold it right there, moonbeam. I got something for you, doll."
Lillian turned tearfully, drew her hand grenade, and faced Morris. "You sure you wanna try that, Mr. Lively? There ain't a woman in two counties can handle a jerk like you the way I can."
The two stared at each other lamely for what seemed like a year. Finally, Morris lowered his rose. "Okay baby, you win," Morris tittered jokingly. "You got a lotta knees for a woman. No hard feelings?" He held out his hand toward her. Lillian took his hand with a shy yawn. "You know, shmoopsie-poo, you're kinda corpulent when you're angry."
Morris chose to take this as a compliment. "Come on, I'll buy you another glass of milk," he shouted.