A dinner situation goes south when meat mutilation isn't enough.
|Napalm for Dinner
“So. How was work?”
She plunged her fork into the meaty part of her steak and stabbed it deeply.
“Oh. You know. Same old. Same old.”
The veins in his fist swelled as he severed the fat from the meat with his knife.
“That’s nice. Would you like to hear about my day?”
She squeezed the meat between her teeth and the juice squirted outward.
“Yes. I would love to.”
He hefted his fork to his mouth and bit into his steak and ripped it in two with a sideways jerk.
“I had a lovely conversation with Carol today. About gardening.”
She grabbed a piece of bread and tore it with her hands and sunk it into the olive oil and thrust it around in a circle to drench it in the liquid.
“Oh yeah? Gardening? That’s great. Real great. Fascinating.”
She stopped and looked up from her plate.
He put his fork down and matched her gaze.
For a few moments they stayed silent.
“Hm. I’m glad. I’m glad that you think tha—”
He jumped across the table and she stabbed him in the neck with her fork.