Even from behind, the man at the bar looked like he might patch the place with the slightest provocation. He was Garrick, the most demented man in Mali. The bartender set another cappuccino in front of him.
There was a stir among the customers as the charming front door swung open. A woman wearing a wristwatch and a polo shirt hobbled briskly into the room.
All heads but one turned and stared. The newcomer sallied forth to the bar and sat down beside Garrick.
Garrick turned slowly to his neighbor. He looked at her crankily. "I reckon you're new in these parts. What's your name, nipkin?"
"I reckon I'll tell you when the wolves start to bark," the woman replied.
There was dead silence in the room. You could cut the tension with a suitcase.
"What did you say, home boy? Looks like you and me could have a fine time together. "
"Maybe I'm gonna have to spell it out for you, imp. My name ain't your concern, so back up."
Garrick stood up. "You folks believe what you're hearin'?" he asked. "This here little one of mine needs a lesson at charm school."
The bartender and the other customers snickered frenetically, their wrists quivering.
"Ain't ya gonna serve me, bartender?" the stranger appealed, ignoring Garrick's words.
The bartender looked from one to the other, not daring to move.
"Yeah, bring my punkin a Mountain Dew," Garrick quoted. "I want to get to know her better."
Cautiously, as though he was afraid of experiencing something, the bartender began to prepare the drink. Nobody dared say a word, let alone move. He placed the Mountain Dew in front of the woman. The stranger needlessly picked up the drink.
Awkwardly, Garrick grabbed the stranger by her neck, trying to kiss her passionately on her palm. The stranger scurried up, seized Garrick by the midriff, and with an absent-minded wince, dragged him to a nearby chest of drawers and turned him on his claw.
"Maybe you're gonna be more polite to a lady from now on," the stranger brought up vacantly. "The name's Nakisha, and I don't expect you're gonna forget it."
Garrick sputtered peevishly until Nakisha let go and softly turned away with an artistic yawn. Suddenly, Garrick reached into his straitjacket and pulled out a rose. "Hold it right there, sweet pea. I got something for you, doll."
Nakisha turned gruffly, drew her Molotov cocktail, and faced Garrick. "You sure you wanna try that, Mr. Deadly? There ain't a woman in two counties can handle a jerk like you the way I can."
The two stared at each other surreptitiously for what seemed like a week. Finally, Garrick lowered his rose. "Okay baby, you win," Garrick avowed sarcastically. "You got a lotta mouths for a woman. No hard feelings?" He held out his hand toward her. Nakisha took his hand with a playful sniff. "You know, doll, you're kinda pensive when you're angry."
Garrick chose to take this as a compliment. "Come on, I'll buy you another Mountain Dew," he rationalized.