Fourteen Beers at Chili's

Page 30

 "The answer is boobies. Sweater puppies. Chesticles. Jugs. Hooters-" You take a deep breath and hold your hands in front of your chest for emphasis, cupping an imaginary set of legendary tits. "-absolutely massive, gravity defying-"

Before you can finish your colorful description, something cold pours down your head and neck, soaking your shirt. It smells like piss. The bros erupt into laughter, howling and slapping the table. Whipping around, you see Maddie holding an empty pint glass. Red faced and scowling, she glares down at you like you're dirt on her shoe.

It's kind of hot.

"Hey! I didn't sign up for a wet t-shirt contest!"

"You wish this was a wet t-shirt contest, don't you?! Pervert!" Maddie screams, getting the attention of the whole restaurant. "That's no way to talk about women!"

Your eyes wander down to her chest. Maddie catches you and crosses her arms before you can see what she's got going on. If looks could kill, you'd be bleeding out on the floor. Now you understand what people mean when they say someone is 'shooting daggers'. Maddie would probably shank you if there weren't so many witnesses.

"I was answering a riddle." You look at Kyle, eyes wide, desperately willing him to back you up.

Kyle nods, seemingly oblivious to the tense situation. "Mhm, the riddle that little gnome guy over there told me." He nods at a salt shaker like it's an old friend. "You're a lady, so maybe you'll know. What does a woman have two of that a cow has four of?"

You can see the cogs in Maddie's head turning, her face going blank as she tries to solve the riddle. The answer is clearly boobies. She'll figure that out and realize that you aren't some weird pervert after all, but a puzzle solving genius. You're looking forward to your apology. The manager would have to comp your whole bill!

"You're a fucking idiot," Maddie says. The look of disgust returns to her face. "The answer is legs."

What? No. That can't be right. It's not your fault the riddle has multiple solutions. Sure legs is a viable answer, but so is boobies. You're both right, which makes her wrong for dumping the beer on you.

"It's legs and boobs!"

"Nah, I trust her judgement on this one." Kyle shakes his head and leans in to whisper to the salt shaker, cupping his hand around his mouth to hide his lips. His hand moves to his ear as he listens to the shaker's response. "He says its legs."

"What the fuck does a salt shaker know about legs or boobs?" You snatch up the salt shaker and hurl it across the room.

Meaty hands clamp down on your shoulders in a vice grip. You're yanked from your chair by the beefiest waiter you've ever seen. Maddie smiles and waves goodbye as the waiter drags you across the restaurant and throws you straight out the front doors. You hit the concrete with a dull thud.

None of the bros come to check on you. Not even Derek. The night air makes your shirt even colder. Wrapping your arms around yourself, you take one last look at Chili's before slinking back to campus.

Maybe the answer really was legs.

END.

BEER COUNTER: 8 (9 IF YOU COUNT THE ONE DUMPED ON YOUR HEAD)