It had been a long ride and my body was giving me the indicators that I needed to stop. I pulled into a roadside rest place where already a crowd of cars and bikes indicated it was a favoured place to rest up and eat.
As usual I was focused on the men’s room and seeing the sign I headed that way bumping into a guy coming out. I muttered my apologies and kept going. When I came out he was standing there and made comment that I should be looking where I am going.
I made another apology and walked across to the cafe area to order myself some lunch.
I was quite hungry and the sandwich I ordered was its appetising best.
Suddenly there was a huge crash. A bike chain landed on my table narrowly missing my drink. I looked up to see the same guy, now a decided boofhead in my opinion standing there flanked by two guys of about the same size and intelligence.
The boofhead with the chain began making comments that I had insulted him and that I should apologise. I replied that I had already done that and that I was now eating my lunch. Seconds later the sandwich was on the floor and I was again looking into his face. A young waitress come over to help clean up but he back handed her and sent her flying across the room crashing into tables and landing on her back. He swung his chain again and this time it landed on the table beside me sending the ordered big breakfast splattering over its owner.
I could see things getting ugly, as these guys were very intimidating. It was time to leave, and hopefully take them outside with me. I jumped up startling the second boofhead who stepped back allowing me to pass and I quickly exited the café.
Behind me I could hear bike chain boofhead calling after me threatening me with all sorts of violence to my person. The best and safest course of action was to head across the road and lead them into the wheat field.
Of course they followed, as I am sure they saw me as an easy target. I’m not very tall and in a strong wind I could be so easily blown over.
In the middle of the field I sat down and listened to them making their way after me. All the while shouting threats of mayhem and destruction. I decided that I would take out the second and third boofhead, but bike chain boy I would not.
Bike chain boofhead must have wondered what was happening when his two mates suddenly vanished. I could hear him thrashing about with the bike chain and I waited until he was almost upon me before I knee capped him.
The wheat field was silent save for the whimpering of bike chain boy. I stood up and walked over to him. He was crying in pain, still holding the chain until I stood on his wrist and threw it far from him.
I asked him if it was worth it that now he’d never get to ride his bike again and most likely struggle to walk.
He had this look of disbelief on his face that what had happened to him was beyond his immediate comprehension. As I walked away I said I’d get him help, to wait patiently until then. Maybe think up a for sale ad for his now useless bike.
Back in the café it was business as usual, the ruckus I had been part of was over, life went on. The young waitress was a bit the worse for wear but bravely going about her job. I reordered my sandwich and paid for it giving the young waitress a very generous tip.
I drove away just as the ambulance was pulling up, the young waitress following my instructions in pointing out the whereabouts of bike chain boofhead.
Written for: https://janedougherty.wordpress.com/2016/07/29/microfiction-challenge-7-wheatfield/
Morpethroad 
Exciting story Michael. Part of me feels the dumb guy with the chain was so stupid, I feel sorry for him, having trouble with that knee forever. But on the other hand, I’m pretty sure he did what he did threatening and more, to other people and now, he’s hopefully, learned his lesson.
Thanks Mandi, I think he has learned a very hard lesson….thanks for stopping by.
When I see knee-capping I think of the Provo speciality. Is this the kind of thing that happens in American cafés often? If it had happened here the police would have been round in minutes! Scary story, Michael. I like to think the guy defended himself by using magic. That’s how I read it anyway.
Yes Jane, magic indeed…I think I wanted him to have some power that allowed to not only serve it up to the bullies but also somehow get away with it..
you’re such an idealist, Michael 🙂
Jane, this is NOT the type of thing that typically happens in American cafes! 🙂
I’m pleased to hear it 🙂 The waitress seemed to have things so under control I did wonder if she had to do much repairing of furniture, calling for ambulances etc.
Truthfully, when I think of “rest stop,” I think of the places off busy highways around here that are very commercial–just stands like in a mall. There are probably police there on duty. But this seemed a rural area with the fields next door, and the local police department/hospital could be some distance away. In either case, no this behavior is not typical–despite what you might see in the news. 🙂
Maybe I should point out Merril that in Australia these rest stops are along major highways and are often no more than a cafes, sometimes a McDonalds. So in rural areas they can be as I describe them, isolated and a distance from police and ambulance.
It’s in one of these types of places that I see the action occurring.
Well, that makes sense. 🙂 From Jane’s remark, I assumed it was the US. I was kind of picturing the place in the TV show “Fargo” where a murder takes place and it takes a while for the police to discover it.
Well that can happen here too. I thought I’d best explain the context. The one in my story is pretty modern as it has bathrooms/toilets inside. Some of them have the toilets/bathrooms in separate buildings on top of very large holes in the ground…lol
I imagine there are some like that in rural areas here, too. 🙂
If you read the next you’ll discover more about the ‘murder’..
🙂
I don’t suppose rural US is any more dangerous than rural anywhere. Country people can get upset if their routine is changed…
No, rural doesn’t make it more dangerous–I simply meant it was more isolated.
For us townies, isolated and dangerous are synonyms 🙂
🙂
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I’m glad he had the magic to teach the bullies a lesson.
So am I. I am hoping this weeks image allows me to write the next part….thanks for stopping by.
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