Giant Solidarity G/T

Chapter XXVI. Contraband

Falling off-balance, I almost slammed into the two-seater table with my pelvis. Only reason I caught and steadied myself against the chair opposite Ms. Perez, was concern for the wellbeing of Rey under my sweatshirt and Alma, already in the danger-zone on the table. "Leave her alone!" I screamed in my nosy neighbor's harelipped face. I didn't remember reaching up and grabbing Perez by the wrist, but I had. Before me, I looked upon the conspicuous spectacle of my left hand forcing back the older woman's right arm at a forty-five-degree angle, preventing her from bringing the metal napkin canister down. Alma lay cowering under the shadow of the metal dispenser beside the salt-shaker, her hands shieldingly above her head. Terrified girl was covered with mayo, a piece of celery stuck to her cheek.

Of course, after Perez's earsplitting screaming and my sprinting across the room, everyone in the dinnertime-crowded buffet was now staring at us, wide-eyed. Less than a half-second after I propelled myself at Ms. Perez's table, that same curly-haired waitress appeared beside me, staring daggers. Next a pair of hairy-knuckled, unfamiliar hands reached over my shoulder, one taking the napkin dispenser from Perez, the other forcing my had away from her arm. A disgruntled giant's voice behind me demanded "What in the underworld's going on here?!" Turning around, I was face-to-face with a tall, bald giant, with MANAGER accentuated in bold on his nametag. "Is this giant bothering you ma'am...?" His steely eyes wandered downward and widened like prison searchlights. "Is that a human in my restaurant?!"

"Yes, to both!" caterwauled Perez, standing up from her chair, and accusingly poking her finger into my chest. "When I saw you, I knew you'd have those slithering humanoids with you!"

Trying to ignore her, I nonchalantly laid my hand on the table, inviting poor, dripping, mortified Alma to climb into my palm to safety. Before she could hoist herself on though, another hand lashed out. Alma screamed and protested as the feminine giantess hand with long acrylic nails snatched her up like a hawk catching a shrew. "That's right, Chuck!" the bitter waitress yelled. "This nice lady tipped me off that this giant and his friend had... these." The waitress held Alma between her fingertips, an arms' length from her body. The poor rescue-human continued to screech fearfully, gazing down the long drop to the floor.

Seeing Alma's frail tiny figure dangle upside down, by her ankles from between two of that giantess's red-painted claws, churned my guts. "Please, don't handle her like that." I said, trying to maintain diplomacy as I reached for Alma with my cupped hand. "She's a very delicate human, please."

Things only worsened, as Alma was kept from my grasp, by the waitress. Lynn according to her nametag. Simultaneously, Chuck the bald manager seized my sleeve, and pulled, yelling "There's another human in his jacket!" In the commotion I didn't notice yet that Rey had popped her head out from my zipper, to avoid impalement when Perez poked me. "Give it to me!" demanded Chuck, as his meaty paw wrapped around little Reagan, yanking her all the way out of the Ride-along strapped to me. "Come here, little blonde beetle!"

"Hey. Fuck you!" I shouted. Now really feeling like a worn length of rope in a tug-of-war match, I whipped around to the furious manager, squeezing my whimpering girlfriend. "Give her back, Chrome-dome, you're hurting her!" I cocked my fist but didn't have a chance to throw the punch. In hindsight, I should've had Rey deactivate her chip and regrow to giantess size before resorting to violence.

Neither was necessary, as serendipity would show us.

"Pardon me," another diner spoke up authoritatively from behind us. Briefly, I think we'd all forgotten we were in a crowded buffet, with twenty-plus onlookers. A grey-haired giantess, wearing horn-rimmed glasses stood up from a booth she was sitting at, with a young man, whom I assume was her son. The older woman showed us a badge she drew from her purse. Not a press pass, like Harley and I brandished earlier. Hers was diamond-shaped and bronze colored, certainly a law-enforcement badge. It was enough for Lynn to relinquish her grip on Alma, finally dropping her into my palm. The giantess cop, who looked close to retirement age approached us, saying "Sergeant Dawes, I'm an off-duty Continent Officer. What's going on here?" She certainly talked like a policewoman and sported the inquisitive glare to supplement it.