If your uncle holds two fingers under your nose winking and you get excited thinking he brought fish tacos for lunch, don't read the following.
"I said Mother'sMilk, you dweeb."
The waiter threw his white towel in some guy's soup.
"Look, mister. That's the tea you ordered. I told you once before."
"This is Goblin'sCock. I'm all too familiar with it. The strong aftertaste is unmistakable."
Brushing soup chunks of his tie he joined the conversation.
"Excuse me, I believe you owe me an apology," he said, tapping the waiter.
"Back off, Slumpy. Men are talking."
"Oh really," Slumpy said. "Your MistyMuff is getting cold."
"It's Mother'sMilk for God's sake."
The waiter flipped the table glass shattering everywhere.
"That's not it. You clearly don't know tea or how to cater tables."
"Get a room, you losers," the waiter said, poking a finger into Slumpy's chest.
They were causing a scene in the restaurant. All tables turned to watch them argue, some siding with the waiter, others with the two customers. A big guy strutted next to them.
"Chuck, what's the problem? Why are you flipping tables in my restaurant?"
"These fuckers say I got the order wrong. They say I don't know my tea…"
The owner grinned and closed his eyes.
"I'll handle this. Take the day off." He turned his attention to the two troublemakers.
"So, you think you can insult my staff and get away with it?"
The person that started it all, SlimJim, held a cup of the to the owner's face.
"Sniff this, Mr. BigShot."
Mr. BigShot grabbed the cup, almost crushing it with rage. He smelled the contents briefly and sat it down.
"A fine cup of Mother's Milk."
As soon as he said it SlimJim smacked him so hard it echoed in the restaurant, projecting BigShot into a happy kissing couple. Out of nowhere, the waiter body-slammed both Slim and Slumpy, gaining air by leaping from the bar.
"Say it, motherfucker. What's in the tea?" he cursed, choking Slim. Through wheezings and hisses, the waiter couldn't make out Goblin'sCock and stuff about his wife's tonsils. A crack on the side of the head swiftly sent him to Neverland. Slumpy held the whisky bottle grinning.
"Rise, comrade," he said, extending his arm towards Slim.
"Thanks, bro. Let's get out of here."
"You're not going anywhere." The owner blocked the exit. He tore his shirt revealing numerous tattoos. On his torso were tea leaves sprinkled over busty triple-D-chested women. Needless to say , he was part of the Takuza, the tea yak- whatever, you get it.
"I think we'll make a new blend. We'll grind it from your bones and add a little mint, some ginger. It will be wonderful…"
Slumpy threw the bottle. He missed by a mile. It broke the exit sign. The brawl was a sight to behold. Chairs, forks, teapots, even napkins were deployed in that terrible battle.
Slim and Slumpy worked as a team but BigShot was a veritable foe. He picked one up and tossed him through the aquarium. A lobster tore Slim's lips off while the man wiggled on his back. Slumpy's eyes nearly popped out, his neck being crushed in a devastating headlock. Then his spine took the form of all the Chinese letters in the menu as BigShot drove him into the ground. Using the lobster Slim crushed the owner's balls in the deadly vise.
He befriended the sea creature, negotiating its freedom in return for aid in battle. The lobster was reluctant at first. It ran away from home at an early age. Life was hard beneath the sunken tugboat. The "shadowland", that's how it was called. A neighborhood filled with violence, guns, and drugs. It got so bad that lobster lost his dad when a rival gang shot up their boot. His mom and sister were inside at the time too. Lobster saw his dad gun down right at the front tongue. It was a two-story boot so they had plenty of room to live in.
Wanting to make something of itself, lobster traveled to the surface world. He'd worked several odd jobs until he landed this gig in the teahouse. But when he tried to quit, fed up with the unpaid overtime and of kids constantly tapping on the glass, he was threatened. BigShot said he would hurt his sister and mom and make their lives a living hell. The pressure cooker was on for poor lobster.
He seized its chance to eliminate Mr. BigShot and be free once again. It scurried up the man's body and shoved its fat tail inside his mouth. Terror filled Big. He was taken by surprise by the cursed sea creature who managed to slip unnoticed while he pummeled Slumpy.
Lobster noticed the owner shied away from seafood. He got angry whenever the chef was cooking up a fish dish inside the teahouse. That had an aquarium. Thus the lobster believed he was allergic to shellfish. Its suspicion came true. It saw MrBigShot claw his eyes out trying to ease the pain from his burning lungs. He died on the floor, his face blotted with a lobster tail jammed in his neck hole.
Our hero returned to the sea. It had learned a valuable lesson: violence is the only way to make it in life. He built a ruthless crime empire dominating not only the "shadowland" but the entire coral reef in that coastline. Countless crustaceans crumbled under his mighty pinchers. It consumed the lobster who had lost all faith in others. It never asked for this. It tried to have a happy life. Looking back, lobster remembered the two who gave it its freedom. It reminded the creature of the bond between brothers in arms, fighting for what's right or in its case for a chance at life. Lobster admitted that not all people deserve death but he vowed to return to the surface one day after all loose ends were tied. It still mourned the loss of papa lobster. The rival gangs were still a force to be reckoned with. But lobster knew all good things take brewing.