Ben was gob smacked, could the night get any worse?

Sniffing slightly Hayleigh pulled out a pocket mirror from her handbag and peered cautiously at her reflection, every now and again she would purse her lips, lift her eyes and then frown, cursing at the image.

“Umm Hayleigh?” Ben said.

“Yeah what?”

“Could you please put the mirror down?”

She glanced up, her eyes narrowed—from her expression it was clear she was not impressed.

“You think I’m a ugly goon don’t you!” she accused.

“No, no I don’t you’re lovely, in fact I never got the chance to say it tonight but you look beautiful.”

It was clear Hayleigh didn’t believe a word of it, in her disillusioned state of mind any positive comment meant the opposite. An appalled look imprinted on her face, Ben’s date seemed set to cause a scene. Pushing the table away from her, straight into Ben’s belly, she picked up her glass and waved it about dangerously. Meanwhile Ben looked on, a cagey expression transforming his face. Her behaviour was questionable, what was she going to do?

“Hayleigh…please what’s wrong?” he started.

“How dare you ruin my night out like this Ben, all I was looking for was a bit of companionship and you wreck it all with your pathetic acts and dumb comments. I hope you know what an upset you’ve given me, and when I’m already depressed too! If I ever see you again it’d be too soon, good riddance!” she yelled, throwing the contents of her glass at Ben before storming off.

Equally dripping wet and humiliated, Ben welcomed all revolted glares with many sour returns. He’d gone all out to impress a girl, and what did he get in return? A battered ego and all dignities zapped effortlessly away. What a charity case. A sardonic grin on his lips, the waiter was clearly trying to suppress his laughter.

“Sir, would you like a tissue with that?” he muttered through clenched teeth.

As Ben stared through weary eyes—captured the look of mock on the waiters face—he just snapped. A sensation of searing rage pouring through him, Ben’s face clouded, his eyebrows funnelled together, and his fist burrowed itself into the waiters face.

“Now you can shove your service, and your tissue and your wine where the sun don’t shine!!” Ben screeched. 

Meaty, strong arms clamped onto Ben’s as he was pulled off the livid waiter, only to be roughly escorted to the manager’s office. As he was ushered through the crowded dining room, all that had viewed the scene dismissed feelings of repugnance through their glares—sent Ben’s rowdy exterior slinking back into the cage it escaped from as a sorry, apologetic face replaced it. Sure the waiter had wound him up, but hadn’t he been just as hypocritical by hitting the man?  Actions speak louder then words and Ben had shouted loud enough for the whole town to hear.