Copyright 1999 bluewords@yahoo.com

 I watched the thing happen like it was in slow motion.
 I had been sitting kind of at the end of the bar,
 nursing a beer, silently cursing my shyness about
 asking any of the women here for a dance. It wasn't
 the best place to go for either dancing or a beer, but
 it was all right. I was people-watching, listening to
 their conversations and trying to think of a good line.

 One guy in particular, although actually his girl-
 friend, keep my attention for a while. He was, to be
 blunt, a real asshole. He was demanding to everyone
 around him, and was particularly rude to the woman he
 was with. I wondered why the hell she was sticking
 around with him. Is that what it took to get a woman?
 Extreme rudeness? If so, I felt better about being
 alone.

 She didn't seem all that happy to be with him, from
 what I could observe. She would do his bidding, but as
 soon as his back would turn, her face went from smile
 to frown. I thought she might even start crying a time
 or two.

 "You can go get me another beer, bitch," he told her.
 It wasn't the first time he'd called her that.

 I saw her emotions play across her face. He had already
 turned back to his friends, and I noticed that even
 they were a little taken aback about his crudeness. She
 walked the few feet towards the bar, upset. There
 seemed to be a struggle going on inside her.

 As she approached the bar, a man got up off his stool
 to leave. She glanced down at the stool and her face
 became stoic. Instead of ordering a drink, she reached
 down and grabbed the stool by its legs, about halfway
 down. Her boyfriend had stood up to make some point to
 his friends. She picked up the stool and swung it at
 him, yelling "Devon!" at the same time. As it arced
 around, another man stopped short in surprise, not
 close enough to get hit. The slight commotion started
 by her swinging the stool caused Devon to turn slightly
 to look in her direction. The seat of the stool struck
 him squarely in the face, causing him to fall sideways,
 crashing into the table he'd been sitting at. He knock-
 ed all the drinks off, splashing his friends and a few
 other patrons. I saw blood come from on the side of his
 face where he'd been hit, his smile missing a tooth
 now. He continued to fall as the table broke, spilling
 him to the floor. The woman, meanwhile, had dropped the
 stool, and it hit the floor and bounced slightly at the
 same time Devon was coming to a rest.

 She stood there looking at what she'd done with uncom-
 prehending eyes. The bar's noise level had dipped
 noticeably, most people were astonished at what had
 happened. I saw all this and thought quicker than I
 had in a long time. I threw a twenty down on the bar
 for my tab, and approached the woman. Devon's friends
 were wiping their hands down their shirts trying to
 get glass and beer off. One of his friends had made it
 around the broken table and was checking him out.
 Devon was out cold, but was still breathing, and I saw
 a vein in his neck pulsing.

 I walked up to the woman and said, "If you want to
 leave, now would be a good time." She glanced up at
 me, and what I said quickly sunk in. She nodded, so I
 lightly grabbed her arm and led her out of the bar,
 past disbelieving patrons. The bouncer ran past us,
 not knowing what had happened yet. I turned back to
 look at the bartender, who, with a vague motion at me,
 let me know that he thought getting her out of there
 was probably a good idea. We left quickly, and were
 outside in seconds.

 I steered her around to the parking lot. She stopped
 short and wrenched her arm out of my slight grasp.

 "Wait, I-" she began.

 "Look, I'll give you a ride to where you want to go,
 but you probably need to get the hell out of here
 right now." I was concerned for her safety. She'd just
 cold-cocked her boyfriend, and I was concerned for her.

 She looked like she was going to argue, but then she
 relented. "Okay," she said meekly. I led the way to my
 car, and we pulled out of the parking lot and into the
 night.

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