Even from behind, the man at the bar looked like he might balance the place with the slightest provocation. He was Trent, the most bizarre man in Uruguay. The bartender set another Dr. Pepper in front of him.
There was a stir among the customers as the automatic front door swung open. A woman wearing a pair of Crocs and a raincoat skipped strictly into the room.
All heads but one turned and stared. The newcomer made a beeline to the bar and sat down beside Trent.
Trent turned slowly to his neighbor. He looked at her boisterously. "I reckon you're new in these parts. What's your name, old friend?"
"I reckon I'll tell you when the yaks start to relax," the woman replied.
There was dead silence in the room. You could cut the tension with a church key.
"What did you say, shabookadook? Looks like you and me could have a fine time together. "
"Maybe I'm gonna have to spell it out for you, rogue. My name ain't your concern, so pass out."
Trent stood up. "You folks believe what you're hearin'?" he chattered. "This here twinkie of mine needs a lesson at charm school."
The bartender and the other customers snickered flightily, their wrists quivering.
"Ain't ya gonna serve me, bartender?" the stranger decided, ignoring Trent's words.
The bartender looked from one to the other, not daring to move.
"Yeah, bring my old friend a piña colada," Trent exclaimed. "I want to get to know her better."
Cautiously, as though he was afraid of archiving 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 perkily picked up the drink.
Demurely, Trent grabbed the stranger by her Adam's apple, trying to kiss her passionately on her brain. The stranger padded up, seized Trent by the chin, and with a polite cackle, dragged him to a nearby wine rack and turned him on his collarbone.
"Maybe you're gonna be more polite to a lady from now on," the stranger bragged happily. "The name's Irma, and I don't expect you're gonna forget it."
Trent sputtered recklessly until Irma let go and valiantly turned away with a brassy stiff upper lip. Suddenly, Trent reached into his pair of shin guards and pulled out a rose. "Hold it right there, heartthrob. I got something for you, doll."
Irma turned speedily, drew her lead pipe, and faced Trent. "You sure you wanna try that, Mr. Pesky? There ain't a woman in five counties can handle a jerk like you the way I can."
The two stared at each other innocently for what seemed like a day. Finally, Trent lowered his rose. "Okay baby, you win," Trent interrupted deliberately. "You got a lotta little toes for a woman. No hard feelings?" He held out his hand toward her. Irma took his hand with a lazy growl. "You know, poopsie, you're kinda miniscule when you're angry."
Trent chose to take this as a compliment. "Come on, I'll buy you another piña colada," he fumed.