Prompt as Hell #3: A Head Scissor Take-down of Passion

Sometimes, even on Valentine’s day, shit gets messed up.

In honor of Valentine’s day, my lover and I planned to have a nice lunch together. We were to meet at our favorite Chinese food restaurant on the downtown strip.

In all my excitement, I’d rummaged through my closet for what seemed like hours, and managed to piece together my favorite bluejeans, t-shirt, and converse. I whipped my hair back into a neatly tied ponytail and hit the road to downtown!

I don’t know exactly how long I waited for her to show up, but it was enough time for me to lean against the trunk of my Honda and smoke two full-flavor 100’s back to back to calm my nerves. We hadn’t been dating long, and this Valentine’s Day lunch was either going to make us or break us.

A smile caressed my cheeks as I stomped out my cigarette and my eyes caught sight of her beat up El Camino squawking into the parking lot. As she climbed out of her car, my lips formed into a straight line once again, and she didn’t smile when she saw me, either.

“Hey,” I said, embracing her in a hug. “Happy Valentine’s Day! Hungry?”

“Yep,” she replied, as she walked past me and through the front doors of the restaurant. It didn’t take someone with Einstein’s IQ to discern that she was angry, though I had no idea what about.

A chill scurried up my spine when I stepped into the building behind her and I noticed that all eyes were on us, and almost every table was full.

After the waitress took our drink orders and we filled our plates with a variety of delicious cuisine from the buffet line, we made our way back to our table and sat down to eat.

“So, how’s your day?” I asked, just before inhaling a bite of delicious bourbon chicken.

Without even acknowledging that she’d heard me speak, she shoved a piece of sushi into her mouth. I set my chopsticks on the table and examined her face as she repeatedly tried to pick up rice with her chopsticks.

“Okay,” I said. “Is something wrong? It’s Valentine’s Day, we’re on a date, and you’ve only spoken like, two words to me.”

Her eyes were tiny slits and her glare pierced through my skin. “Everyone’s staring at us,” she said with a dry tone.

“Well, yea. Yea they are.” My eyes scanned the restaurant to validate what we’d both just agreed on.

“You don’t think you could have dressed a little more appropriately for this date?”

“Excuse me?”

“Seriously, K. A t-shirt and blue jeans?”

Okay. Now I was the one getting angry. “This is my favorite outfit!”

“Lower your voice, K. You could have put on a cute dress or something,” she said, waving her chopstick at me.

“A fuc- A dress?!” I stood from my seat and slammed my hands on the table. “Are you out your rabid ass mind, woman?! Look at you! Don’t you own anything other than your damn luchador cos–”

“Luchadora!” she interrupted, standing from her seat and leaning across the table.

“What the fuck ever! Don’t you own anything other than that fucking costume?”

Yes, my girlfriend, a luchadora, donned a black spandex costume. The bottom half hugged her perfectly crafted legs. The top piece looked like a sports bra, with “El Vagino” scribbled across her breasts in pink, glittery letters. As if that wasn’t flashy enough, her face was hidden beneath a black and pink, jewel encrusted mask.

Those who hadn’t been paying attention to us before were watching now. With all eyes on us, El Vagino screeched and lunged across the table, knocking me and my chair backward onto the floor with her on top of us. The patrons at the tables closest to ours scattered like cockroaches as we engaged in a wrestling match on the dining room floor.

I scrambled beneath her as she had her arm pressed against my neck so I couldn’t move. Stretching my arm out as far as it would go, I grasped a plate that had been knocked to the floor with us, and smashed against Vagino’s head, knocking her to the floor next to me.

The women in the restaurant were covering the eyes of the small children, while the men stood around us in a circle, cheering.

I pushed myself off the floor and straddled my lover’s back. With her hair clasped tightly in my fist, I repeatedly banged her head against the floor. Just as I thought I was going to win this fight, she swung her legs up, wrapped them around my waist, and flipped me off of her. Before I could get up, she was back on top of me. With the whooping and hollering from onlookers clouding my judgement, I raised my fist and punched her in the face, knocking her back against the table.

I scrambled to my feet, and she pulled herself up onto hers as we glared at each other, ready to pounce. She pounced first, pinning me against the table and smacking my face into a plate full of noodles and sushi covered in soy sauce.

When she finally let me go, I stood up and faced her. I was going to end the scuffle once and for all, until I saw the smile on her face.

“What the fuck are you smiling about!?” I yelled through heavy breaths.

She stepped toward me, laughing, and pulled a noodle out of my hair. “This,” she said. “And you have sauce all over your face.”

Seeing her light up with laughter, I couldn’t help but do the same, and the onlookers followed suit.

“That was so fucking hot,” she said. “I think I love you.”

My body tingled with a warming sensation and I stepped toward her. “I think I love you, too. Wanna take this wrestling match back to my place?”

“That depends,” she smiled. “Do you have a costume?”


“Well you can’t wear that.”

“I know.” I let a coy smile show on my face and grabbed her hand, walking her out of the restaurant.


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