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“Someone already got hurt,” snapped Cap. “My son. My son got hurt. Ended up in the hospital.”
Monty answered this one. “If your son wasn’t always starting fights he might not have gotten whooped.”
“You’re gonna get whooped you don’t watch it.”
“Enough!” yelled the Mayor, turning more than a couple heads in the process. Then he closed his eyes and took a deep breath. When he opened them again he spoke calmly and clearly. “I want you all to shake hands and apologize.”
“No way,” said Cap.
“Yeah way,’ said the Mayor. Because if you don’t, if you don’t all shake hands and put this nonsense behind you, I’m going to close all of you down.”
“You can’t do that,” said Mrs Cap.
“Oh, I can and I will,” said the Mayor. “Starting tomorrow at nine am you’ll have every inspector I can summon in your stores - fire, electrical, plumbing, building, health… We’ll take a long hard look at every permit you have and every tax return you’ve ever filed, and I can guarantee you we’ll find something. We can always find something. So unless you’re ready to retire I suggest you do as I say.”
There was a lot of grumbling and head shaking but eventually they all acquiesced. And for a moment things seemed like they might be heading in the right direction, until the ladies went to shake hands.
Mrs Cap spoke angrily through clenched teeth. “You better make sure your son stays away from my daughter.”
“Your daughter would be lucky to have my son you fat warthog,” replied Mrs Monty, through even clenchier teeth.
“What was that?”
“You heard me.”
Mrs Cap squeezed Mrs Monty’s hand as hard as she could, but it barely fazed her. Mrs Monty had been squeezing tennis balls for years on account of
some early onset arthritis in her finger joints and she had a grip like an iron vise these days. She’s the one they all went to, to open a stuck lid on a tight jar. She squoze back so hard Mrs Cap yelped.
“Ouch! Let go of me!”
“You were saying something about my son?”
“What about Romeo?”
“She said our son isn’t good enough for her daughter.”
“He’s not,” Cap chimed in.
“Ha!” laughed Monty.
“Ha what?”
“Ha my son is way too good for the likes of any of you, including your daughter.”
“Go on, say that again,” said Cap, stepping up and getting tough.
“Say what? That my son is too good for the likes of any of you?” Monty was a head shorter than Cap but he was thick, and strong, and well trained, and not the least bit intimidated.
So then Cap pushed Monty. Not a big push. More like a taunting push. Just enough to piss him off and get his point across. He was trying to goad Monty into a fight without really being responsible for starting it.
Monty didn’t care. And just as he was about to haul off and cold clock Cap, but good, once and for all, the Mayor erupted.
“That’s enough! I…” he started to say something just as Patrick returned. The Mayor looked up at his Deputy with a raised eyebrow and a questioning glance.
“It’s going fast. There’s still plenty of salmon, but the chicken is getting low and the eggplant is almost gone.”
“Already?”
