He half-turned to cast a look at Matt, his white beard caressing his shoulder. “Looked to me like you guys were still shopping.”
“We weren’t,” Tyler said. “We were in line and you cut in front of us, so may we kindly ask you to move to the back of the queue.”
He faced forward again, blatantly ignoring the request. That pissed Matt off real fast.
“We’ve been waiting for almost half an hour, so get to the back of the line and wait your turn.”
Fat Santa turned around. “Look, buddy. I’ve had a really bad day.”
“You’re not the only one having a bad day,” Matt argued. “There’s a reason we’re standing here with two bottles of brandy, but you don’t see us disrespecting other customers and cutting in line.”
“Did a two-year old throw up all over you? No. I smell like vomit and I just wanna get home.”
“Matt, just let him go.”
“No! He’s rude.” He jabbed Fat Santa’s shoulder with his forefinger. “Get. To the back. Of the line.”
Fat Santa was becoming increasingly more aggravated. “Back up off me, man.”
As the only calm one, Tyler could see how this was escalating. “Matt, we’re not fight type of guys. Just let him go.”
“Oh, I’m definitely feeling like a fight type of guy right now, Ty.”
And then Matthew did the unthinkable. He grabbed a candy cane and hit Fat Santa over the head. It wasn’t too hard, but hard enough for it to break. And while Fat Santa wasn’t hurt physically, Tyler guessed that it was more a matter of pride. No man could hold his head up high after being hit with a candy cane.
Fat Santa’s cheeks turned an unnaturally dark shade of red and Tyler was almost certain he saw steam emanating from his ears and forehead. “You’re dead.” The whisper was soft enough to sound scary and he looked like he was about to cut someone.
“Matt, I suggest we run.”
“Great suggestion.”
They turned and bulleted down the aisle, splitting up when they reached the end.
Matt dropped down when he was safe behind a stand of chips and placed the bottles of brandy on the floor. “Okay, grab him when he gets here.”
“I don’t like that plan one bit. Let’s just apologize.”
“Do it!”
Okay. Just grab him. Sounds easy enough.Tyler turned into the aisle again and walked straight into a punch. It got him full in the left eye. It didn’t do much damage, but it blurred his vision long enough for Fat Santa to lunge his short body at him.
Tyler crashed to the floor, squirming beneath the heavy weight. “Oh, my God!” he gasped. “You weigh like five hundred pounds! I thought it was a fat suit.”
Fat Santa got up and used his weight to his advantage again, tossing himself onto Tyler’s midriff in what could only be described as an ungraceful belly-flop. That one knocked the wind out of him. Now his eye was ticking and twitching, he felt paralyzed between his neck and waist, and he made peace with the fact that he was about to die a slow, painful death due to asphyxiation.
What an embarrassing way to die.
His soul wouldn’t be able to handle that kind of shame in the afterlife. Just when he thought all hope was lost, Matt came out of nowhere and pushed him off. Tyler quickly scrambled to his feet.
“Grab him, Ty! Grab him!”
Tyler looped his arms through Fat Santa’s and kept them firmly locked behind his back. “Now what?”
“I don’t know. I’ve never beat up a guy before.”
“Maybe just rough him up a bit.”
“You guys are fucking assholes!” Fat Santa spat out.
