The barista at the espresso machine chimed in. “It would be nice if owners and companies were the ones behind the change, but if they don’t care about us enough to do that, then the next best thing would be pressure from customers, right? I mean, it’s not like they’re going to listen to us if we try to stand up and change things. We’ll just get fired.”
Arwin nodded. “You know, there are lots of businesses trying to do away with the practice. In fact, did you know that tipping doesn’t even exist in Asia? And yet people rave about the quality of customer service in places like Japan. If you don’t believe me, take out your smart phone. Go online and read. None of what I’m saying is new.” He smiled at the couple.
Bob calmed, dangerously so. “Look it up, huh? Why? ‘Cause I’m too stupid to understand, that what you’re saying?”
Arwin backed up a half step and hastily tried to deny it. “No, that’s not—“
Bob spoke right over him. “I’m too stupid. Mr. Smart Guy over here. Probably has some fancy education. Too smart for the rest of us dumb folk, huh? We can’t understand complicated stuff like tipping. Not like you. Must be real tough for you having to put up with all us dumb, regular people, huh?” He raised one, meaty hand and shoved Arwin in the chest.
Arwin, not expecting the shove, stumbled back. “What are you—?” His arm jerked, the lid popped off the top of his drink. Cafe latte shot out, drenching Nancy from face to knees.
The woman stood there, aghast, makeup melting from the warm liquid.
Bob’s face reddened. “Why you little—!“ He lunged forward and grabbed Arwin by the collar, then flung him towards the counter.
Mia jumped back with a cry.
Arwin’s back slammed up against the counter. “It wasn’t my fault! You pushed me!” he objected. Where had all this anger come from? They were just talking.
Bob grabbed his foe by the collar again and shook Arwin back and forth. Close up, his breath smelled of wet cigarettes.
Arwin’s stomach recoiled at the stench. He couldn’t imagine having to kiss that every day. It would be like licking a used ashtray. Gross!
Bob released Arwin with one last push.
Arwin, anger flaring, stood straight and clenched his fist before stopping himself. A little shoving was one thing, but throwing punches would take it to another level.
“What are you gonna do?” Bob mocked. He aggressively stepped closer until their chests were touching. “You gonna do something, smart guy? You want to take a swing at me so I can kick your ass?” He reached out and rudely started rapping his knuckles on the top of Arwin’s head. “Hello? Hello? Anybody home? Think, buddy. Think!”
Anger surged through Arwin and he slapped the other man’s hand away, but he still resisted the urge to punch him in the face. It wasn’t easy though. The man might be a bit taller and heavier, but Arwin wasn’t afraid of him. Only afraid of getting arrested for fighting and missing his interview. Speaking of which, he really had only minutes to spare at this point. He needed to extricate himself from whatever was going on quickly.
Arwin glanced over at the tables full of cafe patrons. People were standing up to get a better view of the altercation. But none were moving to help. The bystander effect. Humans were bizarre creatures. The probability of bystanders helping in a situation is inversely proportional to the number of people standing by. That is, the larger the crowd, the less likely it is that anyone will help someone in need because everyone assumes that it is someone else’s responsibility to step in. Plus, most people don’t want to get involved because they want to avoid the responsibility. If any of the watchers would just say something, protest, attempt to help diffuse the situation, it would probably quickly de-escalate.
Bob gave Arwin a smug grin. “Why don’t you make like a tree and get outta here?”
Arwin groaned and slapped his forehead. “It’s make like a tree and leave. Oh my gosh. I can’t believe you actually said that, Biff.” He chuckled.
Nancy snarled while using paper towels to dry her face. “How dare you speak to my husband like that? You rude man!”
Bob roared and swung his fist at Arwin’s head.
Arwin easily ducked the swing and moved to the side. “Hey! Come on, now. Please! Let’s all just calm down.”
Bob roared again and came for Arwin with both hands.
Arwin danced out of the way and backed out of reach, trying to keep tables between the two of them. Where was that cop when you needed him?
Bob put his hands up under a round, two-person table and flipped it up at Arwin, spilling drinks and causing the customers there to squeal and get out of the way.
Arwin leapt backwards and almost collided with a female barista shyly trying to avoid the confrontation. The mug of cappuccino in her hands went flying. She stumbled and Arwin leaped to catch her. “Sorry!” he told her, helping her stand upright again before once more moving out of Bob’s reach. “You ok?”
Bob mercilessly plowed through the crowd after his quarry. He carelessly sent the shy barista flying in the same direction as the cappuccino.
From her backside on the floor, she silently glared at Bob in response, luckily unhurt.
Bob’s eyes had gone red and he showed no sign of stopping his relentless onslaught. Every second Arwin remained out of reach only seemed to further fuel his unreasonable anger.
Bob’s pursuit was relentless. He ruthlessly knocked others aside without pause, flipped tables, and sent an unending string of curses and slurs Arwin’s way. He stole drinks and deserts from other people’s tables and flung them at Arwin.
Arwin tried to evade it all, repeatedly pleading with the man to calm down, but eventually found himself once more backed up against the barista bar.
Bob closed in. He bore down with a comically ruthless expression on his face. Both ham hands bunched into large fists.
Arwin cursed to himself, trapped. Was he really going to have to physically defend himself from this madman? it didn’t look like he had a choice if he wanted to get past him and out of the cafe.
“Here!” called a sweet, female voice.
Arwin looked over.
Mia skillfully slid a steaming cup of milk tea towards Arwin. It was in one of those really fat mugs the size of bowls. The tag hanging over the side read Guardian Spirit Tea.
Apt name at the moment, Arwin thought as he took the mug in hand, ignoring the warmth of it on his palm. He heaved the whole thing at the incoming attacker.
Caramel-beige herbal tea, with an earthy aroma, and bitter, nutty flavour, splashed across Bob’s belly and pants, making it look like he’d wet himself. Bob came to a halt and yelped, probably from the heat of the liquid.
Arwin looked over at his own guardian spirit. “Thanks, Mia!” He grinned.
She gave him a conspiratorial smile in return.
A pair of hands took hold of distracted Arwin. He looked up to find that Nancy, Bob’s very angry wife, now had firm hold of him with her fleshy fingers. She was evidently much stronger than she looked. With a heave, she threw him and Arwin flew sideways, crashing into a glass display of roasted beans. The glass shattered, spilling beans and Arwin all over the floor. Luckily, none of the broken glass caused any harm.
Nancy reached for Arwin again. As she moved forward, her feet came down on the dried beans. They shot forwards out from under her. She fell, hard, onto her wide backside with a loud oomph.
Arwin had no time to recover.
“That’s my wife you’re assaulting, you bastard!” Bob screamed, his big belly shaking with the effort.
“What?” Arwin protested. “She attacked me! Just like you did!”
A serving platter whizzed through the air near Arwin’s face and bounced off the floor. He ducked backwards and just avoided another. He looked up and saw Bob determinedly approaching with an armful of black trays. Bob spun them at Arwin’s head. Arwin threw himself out of the way, trying to keep tables between himself and his attacker. One of the trays landed next to him on the floor and he glanced at the logo etched into the plastic. “Hey, Frisbee.” He laughed. “Far out!”
Each thrown tray put all the other patrons at equal risk and soon everyone was diving for the floor or scrambling for the exit, finally motivated to flee the scene instead of watching. One tray bounced off a man’s head, knocking him from his chair. Another hit an iced latte in a woman’s hands. The drink exploded on contact, drenching the poor woman.
Just then, the mountie burst out of the bathroom. “What the maple syrup is going on out here?” he angrily shouted, his face livid. The shade was remarkably similar to that of his crimson uniform.
The whole room paused, going completely silent. Everyone watched the cop, even Bob and Arwin.
Then anger turned to panic and the officer doubled over in pain. “Oh, shit.” Apparently he meant that literally because he clutched his buttocks, turned, and desperately ran back into the washroom, slamming the door behind him.
Arwin popped his head up above the edge of a table and met Bob’s eyes. “Come on, this is ridiculous. Let’s stop this. Truce?” he asked hopefully. His answer was another flung tray. He barely ducked in time.
“Come here, you wife-assaulting prick!” Bob yelled with fury, all reason long gone. Out of trays, he charged again. “I’ll kill you!”
Scrambling away, Arwin made his way towards the front door, but progress was hampered considerably by the mass of patrons already trying to do the same. His escape became frustrated and fleeing customers pushed him up against the condiment stand. A hand grabbed Arwin’s collar from behind, jerking him about so that he knocked a pile of dirty plates to the ground.
“Gotcha!” Bob exclaimed, a gleefully triumphant look on his ugly face.
Two women attempted to crawl past. A bottle of vanilla powder toppled over on the condiment stand. The top came open and a cloud of lovely-smelling white powder smacked one of the crawling woman right in the face. She looked over at her friend with wide eyes, blinked, and then made a horrendous sneeze. Somewhat wetter powder splattered onto her friend’s face.
Bob growled and raised a fist.
Arwin glanced around, desperate. He grabbed a whipped cream canister and pointed it at Bob’s face. Fluffy white cream blasted out, blinding the other man.
Bob released Arwin to wipe the cream out of his eyes.
Snatching a metal jug labelled MILK as a weapon, Arwin saw a break in the crowd and dashed towards the door.
When Bob chased his prey outside onto the sidewalk, hot on Arwin’s heels, he failed to notice Arwin’s weapon. Arwin’s arm came up, swinging the metal milk jug.
Jug connected with skull with a dull clang. Thankfully, the weapon wasn’t heavy enough to do any real damage. But Bob’s eyes crossed and he staggered forward in a daze. Wobbly legs gave out and he sprawled forward onto the ground next to the police officer’s horse, startling the animal.
“All right!” an authoritative voice bellowed from within the coffee shop. Evidently the cop had finished his personal business. “Now, who’s responsible for this mess?”
Every hand both inside the coffee shop pointed outside. Thankfully, it was somewhat vague as to just who they were pointing to.
Arwin pretended to be just another bystander and pointed at Bob.
The police officer sternly stalked through the room, all eyes following him.
Arwin used the momentary distraction to make good his escape. He quick-walked towards his bus, noticing that he only had seconds left to board, according to a clock high atop a nearby pole. Glancing back over his shoulder, the last thing he saw was the police horse dropping a couple of heavy, wet clumps of manure directly onto Bob’s dazed face. Then the cop hauled the man back onto the sidewalk and begin giving him a very tough talking to.
With a relieved grin that he’d made his bus, Arwin climbed aboard, getting back to his future.
Comments (0)
See all