Mismatched

Not a Bad Dinner Date

After everything was done, we decided to hit up Big Boy's Bar-B-Q for dinner. I didn't even want to think about how it got that name.

"Hey, have you ever been to a Comic Con before?" I asked the knockoff Regina George Bakugou next to me. "For someone who does this shit so often, you sure don't know much about conventions. Is this just a kink for you or something?"

"What? No! What's wrong with you?" she threw a penny at my face. "This is my first time. A pity I'm experiencing it with you, huh?"

I just shrugged, picking up the shiny Abe I'd just copped. Jokes on her, I just got one cent richer. Dumbass.

Anyway, as I drove down the highway, I said into my phone: "Google, call Big Boy's Bar-B-Q."

A few seconds later, the voice of a man came through the phone. "Hello, thank you for choosing Big Boy's Bar-B-Q! How may I help you tonight?"

"Yeah, I have a question?" I asked.

Hera stared at me as the man said: "Uh... you know we have a website, right?"

I ignored the obnoxious prick. Who has time for websites these days anyway? "Yeah, whatever. Why's it called Big Boy? That's kinda weird, right?"

"Sir, I dunno. I'm just a bust boy," He answered.

"Yeah, but you chose to work there. Makes you a creep too, y'know."

Hera punched me in the arm, causing me to shriek into the phone.

"...dude, are you high or something? I don't get paid enough for this bull..." He groaned.

"Nevermind. Anyway, I'm gonna need two seats at the bar. Pronto. The name's Jason. Jason Davis."

"...yeah, no. How about a table in the back like everyone else, you pretentious-"

"Thank you! We'll be right there, sir!" Hera rambled as she snatched the phone from me, hitting me again.

"Yeah, and I'm leaving early. I bet you don't even tip." He said before hanging up.

I silently prayed that maybe somehow her phone would start ringing at that moment like in the movies. Or maybe an alien would decide to take us away at that moment. Anything to save me from Hurricane Hera.

But no.

"..."

"...you good-"

"WHAT THE FUCK IS WRONG WITH YOU?" she suddenly screamed as I just kept driving. "THEY'RE GONNA SPIT IN OUR FOOD NOW, DUMBASS! GOD, I HATE YOU! UGH! WHY, GOD? WHY? HAVE MERCY ON MY FUCKING SOUL!"

"...I'll take that as a no?"

Next thing I knew, she'd clobbered my nutsack again. Goodbye, chance at children.

-------

A few minutes later, we arrived at the stupidly named place.

She practically sprinted out of the car, not bothering to wait for me.

"Chivalry goes both ways, y'know?" I said when we got inside.

"I promise I don't know him, please don't spit in my food," She said to the exhausted-looking dude standing behind a podium-thing.

"Yeah, whatever. My fucking boss wouldn't let me leave, so I guess I'm stuck with you."

Shit. It was the guy from the phone. Kill me...

"Anyway," I said, "I've made a reservation for Davis, party of two."

He reluctantly flipped through the reservations until he found my name.