I walk up to the first one and buy a hot dog, and make my way to Felix’s section. My eyes land on Felix first as I descend the stairs, then I search for the guy who tossed the chip at him.
My vision tunnels, honing in on the nauseating, clown-faced, bro-bag who has his hand primed to toss another chip at Felix.
I narrow my eyes, reel back the hot dog, and hit the fucker right in the side of the head, the ketchup and mustard coating his stupid beanie.
A few people crane their necks to see who chucked the hot dog, but most are glued to the game.
Asswipe curses loudly, then looks around, trying to find the culprit. My whistle draws his attention, and our eyes meet. I motion for him to come forward with my hand.
This is gonna be fun.
Dipshit stands, his friends pointing at me and telling him to teach me a lesson. He looks nervous. I’m not huge, but I exude a certain kind of quality that lets people know I’m not one to fuck with. He’s gotta save face, though, so he takes the bait and marches toward me.
As he approaches, I start walking backward, leading him to the men’s room.
“You already running, asshole?” he hollers.
“Shaking in my boots, big boy.”
He doesn’t like the pet name, and he picks up speed, closing the distance between us. I dart into the men’s room. Thankfully, it’s empty.
He rushes in and pauses, looking me up and down. Mustard andketchup cover his head, so I pull a wad of napkins from my pocket and say, “You got a little something on your face.”
He grits his teeth and lunges, ready to pummel me.
I drop the napkins, letting them scatter to the ground, and release a quick jab to his gut.
He keels over, his hand covering his stomach, and I lift his face with my hand, and bitch-slap him so hard he falls sideways.
I stride to the bathroom door, lock it, and pull out my gun.
“Oh fuck!” He scrambles away, slamming against the wall of the bathroom. “P-please, no! Don’t—”
“SHUT UP!”
He puts his shaking hands in the air. “Look, man, this is crazy. I’ll just leave and—”
“You threw a chip at Felix Hargrove. Why?”
“W-w-wh—“
His lips tremble—his voice nothing more than indecipherable babbling.
I take a step closer, the gun pointing directly at him.
“WHY?”
“B-b-because he’s gay!” he hollers as his entire body shakes with fear.
Oh, he’s one of those assholes.“So, you hate gay people?”
“I…I don’t—”
I draw closer, my gun pointing at his head. “You feel like a big man when you pick on a gay guy?”
He knows he’s fucked. The asshole says nothing—just looks at me with pleading eyes and a trembling lower lip.
“Open your mouth.”
