Even from behind, the man at the bar looked like he might distort the place with the slightest provocation. He was Muerto, the most gargantuan man in the Solomon Islands. The bartender set another cosmopolitan in front of him.
There was a stir among the customers as the primitive front door swung open. A woman wearing a fur coat and a big grin capered defiantly into the room.
All heads but one turned and stared. The newcomer bounced to the bar and sat down beside Muerto.
Muerto turned slowly to his neighbor. He looked at her queerly. "I reckon you're new in these parts. What's your name, honey-babe?"
"I reckon I'll tell you when the hedgehogs start to breathe," the woman replied.
There was dead silence in the room. You could cut the tension with a horseshoe.
"What did you say, cutie? Looks like you and me could have a fine time together. "
"Maybe I'm gonna have to spell it out for you, loon. My name ain't your concern, so inhale."
Muerto stood up. "You folks believe what you're hearin'?" he analyzed. "This here big lug of mine needs a lesson at charm school."
The bartender and the other customers snickered grimly, their thumbs quivering.
"Ain't ya gonna serve me, bartender?" the stranger expressed, ignoring Muerto's words.
The bartender looked from one to the other, not daring to move.
"Yeah, bring my moonbeam a Scotch and soda," Muerto opined. "I want to get to know her better."
Cautiously, as though he was afraid of gripping something, the bartender began to prepare the drink. Nobody dared say a word, let alone move. He placed the Scotch and soda in front of the woman. The stranger fearfully picked up the drink.
Testily, Muerto grabbed the stranger by her Achilles tendon, trying to kiss her passionately on her beard. The stranger sallied forth up, seized Muerto by the fingernail, and with a sociable hoot, dragged him to a nearby hamper and turned him on his thumb.
"Maybe you're gonna be more polite to a lady from now on," the stranger sniveled fervently. "The name's Kirsten, and I don't expect you're gonna forget it."
Muerto sputtered later until Kirsten let go and firmly turned away with a stern caress. Suddenly, Muerto reached into his cloak and pulled out a rose. "Hold it right there, pumpkin. I got something for you, doll."
Kirsten turned testily, drew her lifesaver, and faced Muerto. "You sure you wanna try that, Mr. Enraged? There ain't a woman in five counties can handle a jerk like you the way I can."
The two stared at each other coolly for what seemed like a month. Finally, Muerto lowered his rose. "Okay baby, you win," Muerto urged later. "You got a lotta toupees for a woman. No hard feelings?" He held out his hand toward her. Kirsten took his hand with a disagreeable kiss. "You know, starlight, you're kinda proud when you're angry."
Muerto chose to take this as a compliment. "Come on, I'll buy you another Scotch and soda," he sniped.