"Oi Gaylord that spot is mine!" The big uber built guy asked. Although he was wearing the usual leather jacket as did many of his kind and had a beard a feet long you couldn't help, but admire his muscles from the edge of your sight. He probably just wanted to fight, but you wanted to test that first.
"Bill please." You said to the waitress, but the guy patted you again. He wasn't here for the spot. Swiftly you take the fork into your left sleeve and wait for him to approach you from the left and try to turn you around and punch you like any other sucker. Just a moment, just a moment passed before he patted you and you sprang into action, drawing the fork and stabbing it in the soft area around family jewels. As he screamed and bowed to get the fork out of himself your arm didn't rest. It swiftly navigated itself to the punks shoulder and guided itself to the neck, grabbing hard and pounded him onto the counter once before letting his unconscious body down.
"Muscles are good, but mind rules." You repeated your old motto "I am sorry for this theatrics madam. I think it is better if I leave."
Slowly you go out from the diner with new destination on your mind. This punk reminded you...
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