SHANE. Two weeks. That’s all it took. Two fucking weeks.

Come on, shut your mouth. Don’t go there. Please, mister, don’t do it. Not now, I’m trying to eat. Just be cool.

I pressed the hoodie to the sides of my face.

Just shut your mouth dude.

“If you don’t learn how to act in public, I’ll teach you. You ain’t gonna like it, though,” he said as he took another drink of his beer.

I sliced my chicken and took another bite. Chicken and turkey seemed to keep me in good health, and I made it a point to find the best places to eat both. In the two weeks that I’d been in Austin, this restaurant had proven to have some of the best grilled chicken I had ever eaten. I had a sinking feeling, however, they wouldn’t allowed me to return after tonight. At least not without being questioned.

“I try and act the best I know how to. You’re never satisfied,” she responded from the other side of the table.

“Never satisfied? You dumb cunt. Never satisfied? I’m gonna slap some sense into you when we get home,” he said as he pushed his plate to the center of the table.

Well, that could be a figure of speech. Not one I like. But this isn’t my business.

“Paul. Please. I’m sorry, don’t hit me again,” she whispered.

Well, fuck. It just became my business.

I stood up, popped my neck, and pulled out my wallet. I removed a fifty dollar bill and placed it on the table. It was the least I could do for the ten dollar piece of chicken. This could get ugly real quick, and I didn’t want to take advantage of the waitress.

Forgive me Lord for what I am about to do.

I walked across the floor to the table where the couple was sitting. I wiped my hands on my jeans and cracked my knuckles.

“Paul, I really need to talk to you,” I said softly.

“How the fuck you know my name?” he asked as he looked up from his beer.

Well, she just said your name, you idiot. The entire restaurant knows.

“You don’t remember me?” I lied.

He narrowed his gaze and shook his head, “Nope.”

“Well, we need to talk,” I said quietly, “Let’s take a quick walk, this shouldn’t take long.”

“Paul, what’s this about,” she asked.

“Shut up, bitch. I have no idea who this weirdo is,” he responded as he looked across the table toward her.

I really hoped this could have gone easier.

Maybe I should have left a hundred bucks.

Oh well...

I reached for his shoulder. As soon as my hand touched him, he came up with the beer bottle in his right hand. With the bottle cupped in his hand, he swung toward my face as he stood. I blocked his swing with my left arm, and immediately punched him with two short right jabs. As he stumbled, I hit him once in the stomach with a surprise left hook. As he began to cough and sputter, I took the beer bottle from his hand and set it on the table.

Gasping for air and trying to catch his breath, he placed his hands on his knees.

“He may or may not be back in a minute,” I said as I grabbed the man by his hair.

“Don’t ever let this man beat you again, ma’am,” I said to the woman as I began to pull him by his shirt and hair toward the door.

I figured I had ten minutes before the cops would show up. For me to make my point should take three.

As I drug him toward the door, he began to kick his feet and scream.

“Who the fuck do you think you are? You miserable son-of-a-bitch! Let me go,” he yelled as I drug him through the front door and out to the concrete sidewalk beside the entrance to the restaurant.

Quickly, I reached for his back pocket and removed his wallet. As I searched for his driver’s license, I held onto his hair tightly with my free hand. After finding it, I shoved his wallet in his shirt pocket and waved license in front of his face.

“What the…” he began to say.

“Shut up,” I interrupted.

I stuck his driver’s license in the front pocket of my jeans.

“I’m on a time crunch so I’ll make this quick. I overheard you telling your lady friend you were going to slap her when you got home. You’re not going to slap her again, ever. I have your driver’s license, so I know who you are and I know where you live. Here in about a week I’m going to come check on her, and if I find out you’ve touched her, I’m going to beat you worse than the beating you get tonight,” I explained as I unzipped my hoodie.

As I pulled my hoodie over my shoulders, he took a swing.

As I leaned back, his punch went by my face. I dropped my hoodie to the side and grabbed the hair on either side of his head. Immediately and with tremendous force, I thrust the top of my head into his face. I felt his nose crush under the impact.

As I released his hair from my grasp, I swung a fairly strong uppercut toward his chin. The punch connected to his jaw, knocked his teeth together, and lifted him from his feet. Unconscious, he immediately fell into a pile on the sidewalk.

You should hold your jaw tighter when you’re in a fight, Paul.

Boxing 101.

I looked down at his motionless body and shook my head. I reached down and got my hoodie from the sidewalk, pulled it over my shoulders, and zipped it up. I stood over him as people watched and waited for him to become conscious.

As soon as he began to moan, I walked to my bike and fired it up.

Well, Paul, see you in a few weeks.