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What Happens At a Buffet…
The Final Chapter
An R.L. Mathewson Chronicle
“Oh….God…..please, no!” Zoe muttered in horror as her plate slipped from her fingers and crashed on the floor with a loud clank as the thick plastic plate hit the floor, sending food everywhere, but she barely noticed.
All of her attention was on the two large men, wearing worn “New England Patriot’s” t-shirts, who’d made the mistake of coming between several Bradfords and a fresh pan of fried chicken. This was not going to end well, her panicked mind quickly realized as she automatically glanced around to make sure that her children were a safe distance away, only remembering that they were still in school with a relieved sigh. Before she could release that sigh of relief, she suddenly found two large hands gripping her by the arms, picking her up and setting her aside as Darrin, Reese and Trevor smoothly stepped in front of her, blocking her view and giving her the only chance that she was probably going to get to leave before things went bad.
She tried to step back. She really did, but somehow word that a fresh pan of fried chicken had been brought out had spread and every man, woman and child who’d been eying the empty spot in the buffet table for the last hour rushed to form a haphazard line, blocking her one and only escape.
“Excuse me,” she said, trying to step past a little old woman hugging a dull red plate to her chest.
“Of course, dear,” the woman said, stepped aside and allowed Zoe to step past her and-
“The line starts back there,” Trevor said, getting into the large man’s face.
“Then I suggest you go there,” the man said, barely sparing Trevor a glance before he returned his attention to the server trying to switch out the empty pan and get out of the way of the crowd becoming more demanding with every passing second.
“You can either take yourself to the back of the line,” Reese began, getting right back in the man’s face.
“Or we can put you there,” Darrin said, finishing for his twin with a lazy smile that really said it all.
Normally the twins had that scary ability to intimidate anyone foolish enough to cross them, but when they were in uniform, it was absolutely terrifying. Apparently the two large men that had cut them felt the same way, because with a nod and a nervous expression, the men got out of line, leaving the line wide open for the three men.
Waiting for the interlopers to step aside, the three Bradfords stepped up in line and-
“Hey! No cuts!” a little boy, who had somehow managed to cut in front of three of them when no one was looking, said with a glare.
“No cuts? We were here first,” Trevor said firmly, shooting a mocking glare back at the little boy that had all three men’s lips twitching with amusement.
“We were!” a cute little girl that Zoe hadn’t realized was there, suddenly piped in, looking every bit as determined as her brother.
Reese chuckled as he gestured for the children to precede them. “Then by all means,” he said, gesturing for the children to move to the head of the line.
With a glare, both children moved up in line, but not before the boy threw Trevor a glare that had the men chuckling as they waited for the children to select a piece of chicken and move on.
“Oh, no…” Zoe mumbled, already knowing that this was not going to end well and why.
A large family, a plump woman, several men and around eight children moved up in the front of the line with the children, who had been apparently working as spot holders. By the time Trevor and the twins realized that they’d been had, it was too late.
All of the chicken and most of the sides were gone.
“-hell?” Trevor finished, looking astonished as they stood there, staring in disbelief at the carnage that was left behind.
Even Zoe found herself stuck on the spot, horrified beyond words at the carnage that the large family had left behind in a matter of seconds. They’d taken the full pans of food, strewn unwanted food all over the floor, somehow managed to break a few plastic serving spoons, knocked over several bowls of sauces onto the floor and even managed to break off the wooden sign marking the area as the “Hot Section,” onto the floor where one of the large men had stepped on it, breaking the sign in half.
“Who did this?” the manager demanded as he walked in, looking outraged as he took in all the damage done to his most popular serving station.
The men started to point at the large family that had left a trail of food behind when the mischievous part of her had her doing something that was going to guarantee that she’d paying for this later, she thought, biting back a smile of anticipation as she raised her hand and pointed it at her husband and his cousins.
“It was them.”
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