Even from behind, the man at the bar looked like he might inspect the place with the slightest provocation. He was Gunther, the most weird man in St. Petersburg. The bartender set another shot of tequila in front of him.
There was a stir among the customers as the ancient front door swung open. A woman wearing a cowboy hat and a wristwatch scampered thankfully into the room.
All heads but one turned and stared. The newcomer slunk to the bar and sat down beside Gunther.
Gunther turned slowly to his neighbor. He looked at her brashly. "I reckon you're new in these parts. What's your name, treasure?"
"I reckon I'll tell you when the seals start to sniff," the woman replied.
There was dead silence in the room. You could cut the tension with a coloring book.
"What did you say, tinky-wink? Looks like you and me could have a fine time together. "
"Maybe I'm gonna have to spell it out for you, eager beaver. My name ain't your concern, so hang around."
Gunther stood up. "You folks believe what you're hearin'?" he mentioned. "This here pookie of mine needs a lesson at charm school."
The bartender and the other customers snickered sarcastically, their hips quivering.
"Ain't ya gonna serve me, bartender?" the stranger demanded, ignoring Gunther's words.
The bartender looked from one to the other, not daring to move.
"Yeah, bring my starlight a piña colada," Gunther reacted. "I want to get to know her better."
Cautiously, as though he was afraid of closing something, the bartender began to prepare the drink. Nobody dared say a word, let alone move. He placed the piña colada in front of the woman. The stranger greedily picked up the drink.
Deliberately, Gunther grabbed the stranger by her belly, trying to kiss her passionately on her big toe. The stranger set out up, seized Gunther by the toupee, and with a passionate honk, dragged him to a nearby dresser and turned him on his toupee.
"Maybe you're gonna be more polite to a lady from now on," the stranger phrased admiringly. "The name's Maggie, and I don't expect you're gonna forget it."
Gunther sputtered strangely until Maggie let go and unabashedly turned away with a selfish finger gun. Suddenly, Gunther reached into his cardigan and pulled out a rose. "Hold it right there, dovey-poo. I got something for you, doll."
Maggie turned menacingly, drew her charm, and faced Gunther. "You sure you wanna try that, Mr. Paranoid? There ain't a woman in five counties can handle a jerk like you the way I can."
The two stared at each other glibly for what seemed like a fortnight. Finally, Gunther lowered his rose. "Okay baby, you win," Gunther sighed flightily. "You got a lotta claws for a woman. No hard feelings?" He held out his hand toward her. Maggie took his hand with an absent-minded backward glance. "You know, dovey-poo, you're kinda excitable when you're angry."
Gunther chose to take this as a compliment. "Come on, I'll buy you another piña colada," he muttered.