Disastrous Dinner

“Urg!” Scarlett White tumbled out of the peaceful window nook she’d been reading in, book flying. BEEP BEEP BEEP BEEP BEEP, an ear-shattering siren rent the still in her apartment in two. Scrambling to her feet, her 6’3” frame nearly as tall as the ceiling, Scarlett spun in a circle, desperately trying to find the source of the ongoing… Dammit!  She sprinted to her kitchen, opening the door to a billow of acrid smoke. Coughing and sputtering, she made her way to the stove, hoping against hope there would be something to salvage. Or not. Sighing, Scarlett looked down at the disintegrating remains of her rice. Looked like it was takeout again, for the 354^th day in a row. At least she hadn’t burned water this time.

20 minutes later, Scarlett finally found a parking spot at the new Vietnamese-Mexican fusion restaurant. It was opening night, and the entire town, it seemed, had turned out to test the cook’s mettle. She was halfway through her bún bò tacos when darkness fell over the land. Literally.

The pitch black carved a sudden silence into the previously bustling restaurant. And then one of the big guys who’d been having a little too much fun at the bar roared, “That was my toe, you spineless cheapshot!” And all hell broke loose. Sounds of china shattering and the splintering of chairs filled the air, accompanied by wet splats as flung food made contact with bodies. Cursing under her breath, Scarlett stood quickly. She’d asked to be seated in the back corner booth because it gave her a wonderful vantage point for surreptitious people-watching. She hadn’t expected to have to wade through a bar fight to get to the door. Well. Now or never, she supposed. Clutching her empty plate over her head as a modicum of measly protection, Scarlett burrowed her way through the pulsing, riotous throng as best she could. She could already feel the bruises forming on her pale skin.

She was a foot away from the door before she realized there was a great bulk of a person blocking her way out. Aghast, she stared open-mouthed at the moron, and was about to ask what in the @#&! he was doing when he hysterically sobbed, “My wife! Where’s my wife? Nobody’s getting out until I find my wife!”

Now, Scarlett was normally a very sympathetic person. She really was. But she had just trucked her way across an MMA fighting cage and she was more than the worse for wear for it. Her patience had shredded to irreparable pieces three near misses ago. The door to freedom was right there. And he was trying to tell her she couldn’t take it.

There was only one way out of this.

Scarlett pulled back her fist and let one fly. Thwack. Ooh, right in the eye! The man doubled over, clutching what would surely be a beaut of a shiner tomorrow, and Scarlett calmly walked past him and into the parking lot. Idly, she flexed her fingers. “That’s one heck of a way to relieve some frustration!” she grinned to herself. And she hadn’t even had to pay for dinner.