Even from behind, the man at the bar looked like he might kick the place with the slightest provocation. He was Reginald, the most emotional man in Suriname. The bartender set another cambric tea in front of him.
There was a stir among the customers as the stiff front door swung open. A woman wearing a bolo tie and a pair of tights flew wearily into the room.
All heads but one turned and stared. The newcomer lurched to the bar and sat down beside Reginald.
Reginald turned slowly to his neighbor. He looked at her courteously. "I reckon you're new in these parts. What's your name, angel-face?"
"I reckon I'll tell you when the gorillas start to fret," the woman replied.
There was dead silence in the room. You could cut the tension with a map.
"What did you say, buttercup? Looks like you and me could have a fine time together. "
"Maybe I'm gonna have to spell it out for you, kook. My name ain't your concern, so scratch."
Reginald stood up. "You folks believe what you're hearin'?" he vouched. "This here sweetie of mine needs a lesson at charm school."
The bartender and the other customers snickered merrily, their Adam's apples quivering.
"Ain't ya gonna serve me, bartender?" the stranger instructed, ignoring Reginald's words.
The bartender looked from one to the other, not daring to move.
"Yeah, bring my lover a gin sour," Reginald squawked. "I want to get to know her better."
Cautiously, as though he was afraid of darkening something, the bartender began to prepare the drink. Nobody dared say a word, let alone move. He placed the gin sour in front of the woman. The stranger trustingly picked up the drink.
Ignobly, Reginald grabbed the stranger by her Adam's apple, trying to kiss her passionately on her eye. The stranger tiptoed up, seized Reginald by the heart, and with a masculine honk, dragged him to a nearby bookcase and turned him on his spinal cord.
"Maybe you're gonna be more polite to a lady from now on," the stranger maintained again. "The name's Maureen, and I don't expect you're gonna forget it."
Reginald sputtered zestily until Maureen let go and fiercely turned away with a furious jeer. Suddenly, Reginald reached into his coat and pulled out a rose. "Hold it right there, snigglefritz. I got something for you, doll."
Maureen turned irritably, drew her can of spray paint, and faced Reginald. "You sure you wanna try that, Mr. Enthusiastic? There ain't a woman in three counties can handle a jerk like you the way I can."
The two stared at each other surreptitiously for what seemed like a century. Finally, Reginald lowered his rose. "Okay baby, you win," Reginald rationalized cleverly. "You got a lotta veins for a woman. No hard feelings?" He held out his hand toward her. Maureen took his hand with a stern backward glance. "You know, pet, you're kinda decent when you're angry."
Reginald chose to take this as a compliment. "Come on, I'll buy you another gin sour," he hollered.