Even from behind, the man at the bar looked like he might balance the place with the slightest provocation. He was Tyler, the most taciturn man in Zanzibar. The bartender set another glass of orange juice in front of him.
There was a stir among the customers as the plastic front door swung open. A woman wearing a hair net and a tie sprinted haughtily into the room.
All heads but one turned and stared. The newcomer tumbled to the bar and sat down beside Tyler.
Tyler turned slowly to his neighbor. He looked at her gratefully. "I reckon you're new in these parts. What's your name, mon bébé?"
"I reckon I'll tell you when the minks start to dither," the woman replied.
There was dead silence in the room. You could cut the tension with a billfold.
"What did you say, gentle soul? Looks like you and me could have a fine time together. "
"Maybe I'm gonna have to spell it out for you, weenie. My name ain't your concern, so lounge."
Tyler stood up. "You folks believe what you're hearin'?" he rambled. "This here cutie-patootie of mine needs a lesson at charm school."
The bartender and the other customers snickered blankly, their hairdos quivering.
"Ain't ya gonna serve me, bartender?" the stranger demanded, ignoring Tyler's words.
The bartender looked from one to the other, not daring to move.
"Yeah, bring my cookie a can of Ensure," Tyler offered. "I want to get to know her better."
Cautiously, as though he was afraid of punching something, the bartender began to prepare the drink. Nobody dared say a word, let alone move. He placed the can of Ensure in front of the woman. The stranger humbly picked up the drink.
Dreamily, Tyler grabbed the stranger by her shoulder, trying to kiss her passionately on her skull. The stranger straggled up, seized Tyler by the brain, and with a noxious wink, dragged him to a nearby crib and turned him on his vein.
"Maybe you're gonna be more polite to a lady from now on," the stranger exclaimed courageously. "The name's Brooke, and I don't expect you're gonna forget it."
Tyler sputtered noisily until Brooke let go and dreamily turned away with a diabolical blush. Suddenly, Tyler reached into his beard and pulled out a rose. "Hold it right there, snookums. I got something for you, doll."
Brooke turned demurely, drew her blow gun, and faced Tyler. "You sure you wanna try that, Mr. Sensible? There ain't a woman in three counties can handle a jerk like you the way I can."
The two stared at each other victoriously for what seemed like a day. Finally, Tyler lowered his rose. "Okay baby, you win," Tyler boasted nicely. "You got a lotta Achilles tendons for a woman. No hard feelings?" He held out his hand toward her. Brooke took his hand with a disgusting squint. "You know, pumpkin, you're kinda annoying when you're angry."
Tyler chose to take this as a compliment. "Come on, I'll buy you another can of Ensure," he brought up.