Gassed

My wife and I ate dinner at some high-class restaurant in town. There were about fifteen other couples inside, eating as well. Everyone was enjoying their meal and minding their own business. There were just enough workers here tonight to keep things running smoothly. It would be a perfect date night for my wife and me, I remember thinking.

So, we were sitting there, exchanging soft phrases of love. The waitstaff was busily waiting on us and the other diners. Suddenly, a man came to the front door of the restaurant. He put on a gas mask and released a pin on some type of cylinder. Screaming, he threw it into the center of the floor.

One by one, the people of the restaurant started falling where they sat or stood. I had time to think, “What the hell?” right before I fell splat into my soup.

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We all woke up in the positions we fell in what seemed like minutes later. Our watches told us another story, though. We’d been out for hours.

We were all groggy when we first woke up. The waitstaff rallied first and called 911, who sent out emergency services and a couple of police cruisers.

When the cops arrived, we tried to describe the guy to them. But the only thing all of us could agree on was the big, substantial bug eyes the guy had and the fact that he put on a gas mask.

Then, one by one, we noticed a pain in our sides. Lifting our shirts, we all looked. Every one of us had stitches where our left kidney would have been.

Looking from one to the other, you could tell by the look on our faces what we were thinking. What the hell happened here tonight?