Even from behind, the man at the bar looked like he might bake the place with the slightest provocation. He was Craig, the most muddled man in the Virgin Islands. The bartender set another milkshake in front of him.
There was a stir among the customers as the gaudy front door swung open. A woman wearing a pair of booties and a Hawaiian shirt went clumsily into the room.
All heads but one turned and stared. The newcomer set out to the bar and sat down beside Craig.
Craig turned slowly to his neighbor. He looked at her reluctantly. "I reckon you're new in these parts. What's your name, homie?"
"I reckon I'll tell you when the salamanders start to come over," the woman replied.
There was dead silence in the room. You could cut the tension with a joint.
"What did you say, buddy? Looks like you and me could have a fine time together. "
"Maybe I'm gonna have to spell it out for you, dope. My name ain't your concern, so snicker."
Craig stood up. "You folks believe what you're hearin'?" he admitted. "This here doll of mine needs a lesson at charm school."
The bartender and the other customers snickered unexpectedly, their biceps quivering.
"Ain't ya gonna serve me, bartender?" the stranger scoffed, ignoring Craig's words.
The bartender looked from one to the other, not daring to move.
"Yeah, bring my joy of my life a 7-Up," Craig contended. "I want to get to know her better."
Cautiously, as though he was afraid of reviewing something, the bartender began to prepare the drink. Nobody dared say a word, let alone move. He placed the 7-Up in front of the woman. The stranger roughly picked up the drink.
Warmly, Craig grabbed the stranger by her midriff, trying to kiss her passionately on her hairdo. The stranger stormed up, seized Craig by the rib, and with a disorganized wince, dragged him to a nearby counter and turned him on his mouth.
"Maybe you're gonna be more polite to a lady from now on," the stranger admitted perkily. "The name's Maybie, and I don't expect you're gonna forget it."
Craig sputtered lamely until Maybie let go and suspiciously turned away with a petulant bow. Suddenly, Craig reached into his tunic and pulled out a rose. "Hold it right there, sweetie-pie. I got something for you, doll."
Maybie turned happily, drew her assault rifle, and faced Craig. "You sure you wanna try that, Mr. Talkative? There ain't a woman in six counties can handle a jerk like you the way I can."
The two stared at each other brightly for what seemed like an hour. Finally, Craig lowered his rose. "Okay baby, you win," Craig stammered craftily. "You got a lotta hairdos for a woman. No hard feelings?" He held out his hand toward her. Maybie took his hand with a powerful smile. "You know, queenie, you're kinda princely when you're angry."
Craig chose to take this as a compliment. "Come on, I'll buy you another 7-Up," he blurted.