#538
Gary looked around comically, twisting around to look behind him. "The guy who?" he asked, wondering what in the heck was happening.
"You just stand still, you shyster. Ben, I am here to serve you with these papers." Breezy was practically beside herself with glee. So, the whole rotten bunch of these really strange people thought they were going to pull the wool over her eyes. Well, she had her man.
"I'm not Ben," Gary protested. "My name is Gary."
"Oh no you're not. I was told you were a slick liar, so you just keep on lying and you can read these papers as you call yourself any name you darn well please."
"My name is Gary Thompson Linderman, I have several picture pieces of ID." and Gary went to get his wallet.
"Hold it!" Breezy shouted as her little revolver came up in her right hand. "No funny business Mister," she barked. "You wouldn't be the first person I've has to shoot."
So quietly and swiftly, every member in the kitchen had drawn their own guns, and Breezy's mouth was agape with the amount of hardware pointed at her.
"Put that stupid little gun away," Gary snarled in his best military voice. "If you don't, you will be shot. That might be a good way to end this fiasco, we will shoot you and dump your body. Think back, how many people know you were coming out here? How soon will you be missed?"
There was a flash of panic across Breezy's face she didn't control. She could feel her goose being cooked right before her eyes. She had been so sure this was a hick-ville easy last serve, that she had disregarded procedure and left the office without filing her process location.
Gary noticed, he watched the woman carefully; never taking his eyes off the frustrated and angry woman. "My name is Gary, and I'm going to prove it to you. Lower that damn gun." he ordered.
With a huge dramatic sigh, Breezy lowered her weapon. What else could she do? She acquiesced rapidly, searching desperately for a way to save face and get this obviously lying man to accept the process paper.
"Ahh, Ahh, I guess I'll have a look at your ID. Bring it over here" boldly, Breezy countered.
"Not a chance," Gary sneered, "you get over here and ask nicely, or we will have the pleasure of shooting you." There was so much finality and yet promise of destruction in his voice, that Breezy obeyed. She told herself, there wasn't anything else she could do under the circumstances."
Gary opened his wallet, dog eared and smudged from years of rubbing together, the aged cards proved the man was who he said he was.
"Sit down," Gary pulled out a chair in a gentlemanly gesture, pointing for Breezy to sit herself down and listen. As she was sitting down, Gary swiftly removed the sheaf of papers from her unsuspecting hand.
Breezy went to object her treatment and grab her papers back; when Gary roughly shoved the chair against the back of her legs, buckling the medium solid woman into the seat. "I said sit down," he emphasized.