Fear of the scene

“The best battle is the one that never happened.”
(The staff)

Late in the evening after work, I went to McDonald’s with my wife.
There is nothing at home anyway.
In front of us are two loving couples, but behind, three characters more interesting - the hopper with twenty years of experience. They look like about thirty, the most uncomfortable age for others.
The elderly are no longer afraid, but in the soul all the same idiots as at 12...

Two in sweaty sports costumes, the third has a white jacket, a thick tattooed bitch, a cap and brushes.
I don’t think that in the ordinary, puppy life, it’s convenient for them to talk to such an overwhelming percentage of matas as in that turn on people.
It was clear that the boys were mourning intentionally loudly and often.
Matt discussed the menu, Matt pleaded, Matt boasted of their tuning loaves. They even answered the question, “What time is it?”
The boys were just looking for nightly adventures and wanted to: either rush, or just stretch away in front of the silent people.
I met with the eyes of my wife who said:
Just keep silent, or nothing good will end.

I myself understood it. If I had not had a wife, I could have...
What then?
Without her, I’t pay any attention to Matt. I did not serve in the army.
But then why does my wife need a husband, if not to protect her always and in everything and in such cases?
Whatever happens, I get into my head.
But where to start?
Do you want to ask for culture not to argue with Matt? It is unlikely to work, and in a bubble shuffle will help.
Start with indignation? Especially the scratch.

The poisoned man in a white jacket standing in front of me will surely not help when I’m beaten with my legs.
Of course, it is most effective to attack the first, then one would definitely be wiped out... But it is also nonsense. Why without a declaration of war?
It was urgent to come up with such words that they had never heard in their lives, and there – how lucky.

I was mentally prepared for the sudden adrenaline movements, hardly coped with the nauseous fear of the scene, time stopped and I said loudly:
Guys, can I ask you one question?
The puppies remarkably revived and set up in the shelter:
What is this?
And the question is simple – I have never in my life maternated before your mothers and wives, by the way, I am not going to do this in the future. So, can I expect you to be no worse than me?

Sherenga looked around, thought about it, and suddenly, the man in the maid turned to my wife and said:
Sorry, we have something...
The other two also apologized with a sharp intonation (they did not know otherwise), and apologized only to my Shura, although there were a lot of women around.

Then they smiled, stretched out my hands and the one in the house said:
There is no base, it is beautifully wrapped. It seemed like the same thing as “beware of the drum,” and it sounded solid.

No more guys mated, so they talked a little bit.

When we were already sitting at the table and pressing hamburgers, a man in a white jacket suddenly approached me and said:
"Sorry, but as you said there, on the street, after what he said, can I count on... and then?
Why is it to you?
Well, maybe I would be useful in such a situation too?

I began to recall those words, but my Shura suddenly entered the conversation and said with a delicate smile:
You will not need it yet. First you need to overcome the fear of the scene, and then learn the role.