RULE NO.25

27.A Friendly Pat

3 Months later....

"You arrogant swine!"
"You...you maggot!"

"Calm down pretty lady, it was just a friendly pat"

Smack!

"Now, how's that for a friendly pat?"

"You hit me?"
"Do you know who i am?"

Now that's my cue to intervene before this issue becomes even worse, but I dare say Grace put a lot of muscle into that slap.

"Can everyone calm the hell down!" I yell, situating myself between both parties.

"Now, can someone tell me what's going on?" I say, although i already know the whole of it.

On a very sunny afternoon, a couple of helpless fools came into a bar to wet their parched throats with a couple of cool beers, until they beheld a well endowed pretty damsel. Little did they know she was far from being in distress. One was bold enough to give her a "friendly pat". Clearly wanting to make sure her endowments were real, only to be met with the damsels sharp teeth.

So, I am at crossroads now, unable to decide between the customer, saving our new bar a substantial loss and my bestfriend who'll have my neck if i let this "arrogant swine" get away with mauling her.

"Sir, I would like for you to apologize to the young lady" I say, trying to sound as stern as possible, even though I am trying hard not to laugh at the imbeciles facial expression. He looked like he hed been dumped in a bowl of ice cold water.

"What?! Apologise to her? But I was the one who got slapped? The client yells.

"Yes..yes, right after you touched her without her consent" I reply, enunciating every word because I am starting to get really pissed.

"I can't apologise to her...i am the man. She should apologise to me instead. Preferably on her knees" He replies with a sly grin.

"Have you had any drinks yet?" I say with a soft smile.

"No, not yet. Your disrespectful waitress abused me before I got the chance" Replies the misogynist pig, clearly assuming that the issue has been solved because he flashed his male ego and bulbous nose around.

Show him that we are not to be messed with. Show him! cried my inner feminist.

This show is about to get really interesting.

"I apologise for that kind sir. Your drink is on the house". I reply, with a very seductive smile.

" Just so this doesn't happen again, I'll serve you myself". I say, patting his shoulder lightly.

I head to the refrigerator and get a very chilled drink. You could tell how cold it is from the amount of frost coating the bottle. I wipe it dry with a paper towel and walk toward the incensed client with an obvious sway in my hips.

"Shall i open it?" I ask, bending low enough so he can see an ample amount of cleavage. When I see i have his full attention, I pop the cover open and pour the content of the bottle over his arrogant head. As he screams, I hear Grace release a squeal of sheer joy. She should have known I had something up my sleeve. The other patrons cheered, while others laughed.

"If you are done enjoying your cold beer, please leave my bar" I say, with enough venom in my voice to scare a ghost.

The arrogant pig stumps out of the bar spewing irrelevant threats.

"Babe, that was magnificent!" Grace yells and practically jumps on me.

As I detach myself from her embrace, I am met by a mild feeling of lightheadedness.

"Bri, are you okay?" Grace asks, leaning closer to feel my forehead.

"Yeah, I'm fine" I reply, closing my eyes and focusing on taking in deep breathes.

After the events of that afternoon, one would think that the rest of the day would be that entertaining, but surprisingly, it went off without a hitch, probably because its a Wednesday. Weekends are a whole lot busier.

When the last of the patrons leave, I and grace clean up and close for the day, heading to our flat situated above the bar. It was easier that way, instead of having to walk through the lonely roads by this time of the night, even though many parts of Accra were busiest at night, but the point of my being here is hiding in plain sight and the bar was the best we could come up with. After all, drunk men are known to spew their guts without much provocation and i dont mean that literally.

As I head up the stairs, I can't help but sigh. Finally, i can sleep. I feel so drained and the migraine I feel building up isn't helping.

I groan as I turn around and feel the rays of the sun...no, I shouldn't have thought that. I have tried my best to forget all about him. Not that its working, but I'll die trying.

As I lift my head off the pillow, I am hit by an odd feeling that I can't name and I lay back groaning. Am I coming down with something?

"Bri! Wake the fuck up!" Grace yells from the other room.

For someone who sleeps like the dead, one would think she'd have a problem rising early, but she seems to be doing very well.

I finally muster enough energy to get out of bed, murmuring all the while about people who sleep like the dead yet wont allow others do the same.

As I head for the bathroom, I have that odd feeling again and before I can identify it for what it is, I puke my guts out just as Grace walks in. Let's just say, she'll need to take two more baths to feel clean, then two more to smell clean.

"Eeeeew! Bri?! What in the actual fuck?!"