I'm going to try to do writing prompts from the Writing Excuses podcast. This week's prompt was "rewrite the ending to a story you've already written," so I'm going to ignore it. (Far too long for a blog post.) Instead, here's a prompt from S8.E18 - "Write a fight scene. Bonus points if it's got four people in it. We don't know what you'll spend those points on."
No one argued the fact - James really shouldn't have been walking his huge German Shepherd through the food court. But then, Anya didn't need to taunt the dog, either. And if Ted hadn't been in a bad mood, well, maybe things would have turned out differently. But that's how things went, and so the outcome was somewhat inevitable.
"Hey," James snapped. "What do you think you're doing?"
Anya laughed as Toby lunged against his leash at the taco she was holding. "What, can't hold on to your dog? He too big for your little muscles?"
James growled but ignored her. Ted, though, couldn't stay quiet. "Oh, shove it in a fishbowl, Anya. You're not one to talk. James could whip you over the moon and back."
"Could not," Anya said, leaning against the food counter. "James is a twig with the arm strength of an anemic hamster."
James was trying to keep walking, but Toby was straining backwards, the smell of Trader Joe's taco spice tantalizing his nose. "Leave it, Ted," he said, snapping at his dog.
"What's wrong with you, James? You going to let her talk like that?"
"What's he going to do, mumble at me?" Anya retorted. "You guys are just gutless jellyfish anyway." She turned back to her food, chuckling to herself.
There was silence. Even Toby stopped whining. Anya turned around slowly to glare at the two boys. James just looked shocked. Ted's trembling knees belied his belligerantly indignant face, both of his hands tucked behind his back. "Who's a jellyfish now?" he said with a shrug.
Anya stared at him, jelly dripping out of her hair. "You, my friend, just went too far." She turned to the food line. With one fluid movement, she turned around and whipped a spoon around at Ted. A white blob soared through the air and splattered all over Ted's jacket. Some of the mashed potatoes flew past and speckled James's windbreaker.
"Aw, come on, I just wanted to go home," James said. Toby wagged his tail and started licking at the squashed spuds.
"Oh, no. It's on now." Ted dropped the jelly packets he'd been holding. He stalked over to the drink machines, picked up a styrofoam cup, and started filling it. "You know, Anya, I've always hated your sunny disposition." He put a lid on and hurled a grenade of Sunny D at Anya. She put her hand up to block it, sending a splash of orange liquid all over the food.
"Oh really now," Anya retorted through her teeth. She began flinging corn at him with the mashed potato spoon. "That's what I think of your jokes, you pea brain."
Ted picked up a tray for a shield, veggie kernels plinking off of it like rain. He darted to the cereal bar, pried off a lid, and started pelting Anya with Cap'n Crunchberries. She retaliated with half a pizza. Before long, food was flying thickly through the air like a miniature tornado had plunged through a Costco back room. James was crouched in his foxhole made of a tipped-over table, gripping Toby's collar with white knuckles. Toby, for his part, was trying to add to the mayhem but his barks were strained against James's stranglehold on his collar.
Just then, Anya worked her way through the vegetable bar, past the gravy, and picked up a pork chop. There was a loud snap, a blur through the air, and Anya and James both found themselves on the ground. Ted froze, his fingers in the ice chest. Anya pushed herself up on an elbow, rubbing the back of her head. James picked himself up, staring ahead blankly, Toby's collar dangling from his still-clenched fist.
And Toby, pork chop trophy proudly held aloft, danced to the corner to feast on the spoils of war.
I think that counts as 4. I will spend my extra points on ice cream.