Woof
Janice had never really registered Robert at all. When the cellphone went flying he stayed on target. It was all about the phone. It was going to pay for what it had done!
The phone landed on a patch of grass between the curb and the sidewalk. Gerald was on it like a tiger. He drew back a mighty fist and punched the phone directly into the dirt. Machine like, he began jackhammering whatever plastic bits were left into the subsoil.
Robert, terrified, battered, and crushed into the pavement had no thought but escape. He clicked his key fob and the Audi’s taillights blinked. Janice, busy chewing on the phone’s battery, didn’t notice.
Suddenly everyone knew the cell phone thief was the big time drug dealer! He’d been running too! Running meant he’d been trying to flee the scene!
They rushed forth in a great show of interagency cooperation. They were going to serve and protect the living hell out of this twerp!
Robert curled up into a ball as the 4×4 enthusiast released his chokehold just long enough for a dozen assorted officers to shout “Quit resisting arrest!” and begin stomping him like a bunch of grapes about to become wine.
Back in the arena, Winston sat quietly and stared at the ceiling. He’d done what must be done. A deal is a deal, and now his name was tied to a moment of stupidity.
If Robert’s cellphone had any remaining corporeal presence (which it did not) it would have happily presented the new announcement on social media:
“Winston Jones, Professor of Business Math, is pleased to announce this year’s annual charity drive has been a success! $8,600, has been donated to ‘Dude Yoni’, a charity which provides feminine hygiene products to incarcerated male to female transitioning women.”
Next to Winston, sat Winston’s wife. She had wide eyes and the look of someone who had just seen behind the curtain. Two seats over, Robert’s soon to be ex-girlfriend had the same look. Between them, a set of broken bolts represented the place where Robert’s chair had been; a place that had been entirely unremarkable until a giant enraged naked man had blasted both Robert and the chair out of existence.
Winston saw the look on his wife’s face, and the identical look on Robert’s soon to be ex-girlfriend. He was no fool. He’d seen the same show.
“How in the name of Ron Jeremy did they think that thing was female?” Winston groused.
“Yes.” His wife agreed. “Very, extremely, male.”
They looked over the ruined chair at the younger and more shell-shocked girl. She looked back. She could only manage one word; “Woof!”
