On the Alberta/Montana Border: Putting the 'Buff' in Buffet

It was supposed to be a quiet dinner, just the three of us.

It didn’t turn out that way.

Maybe I should explain . . .

Sally, Mom and me had had a rough week.

Let me start again . . .

Mom and me had had a rough week.

Because . . . Sally.

I know I don’t have to explain . . .

Mom decided it would be a nice change to have someone else cook and clean up.

A dinner out was indicated.

We had a bit of a ‘discussion’ over where we should go.

Our choice was made by the least decisive—but loudest—person in the group.

I’ll give you a hint. Not Mom. Or me.

Soooo Sally wanted to go to Rocky’s Buffet.

And that’s where we all went.

I will admit I like it. The food is replenished often and is fresh, hot and plentiful.

And we can eat at our leisure.

At first, all was well.

There had been minimal fuss and NO damage.

You have to know that this, in itself, is cause for celebration.

Mom and I had just returned to our table with a second stage plate of deliciousness each and Sally was standing in line for her third shot at the amazing pork dumplings.

Suddenly, there was a . . . scuffle . . . at the cash register.

Okay, you’ll probably understand why my first thought was, “Oh, no! Sally?!”

But then I spotted her. Standing peacefully beside the dumpling display, plate at the ready, deftly spooning up a mountain of little globules of tastiness.

And yes, that doesn’t happen often.

The ‘standing peacefully’ part, I mean.

I’ve seen her consume a mountain of dumplings many times . . .

Ahem . . .

I remember frowning, then turning to look over at the check-out again.

A young man was there and, for a moment, I thought he was just paying for his food. Loudly. Wearing a ski mask.

Then I saw the gun. And the tears on the hostess’ face as she scooped cash out of the register and dumped it into a Rocky’s Buffet take-out bag.

The young man swung the pistol around and someone in the restaurant screamed. If I know people (and, hey, I have been Sally’s sister for most of my 16 years), panic was not far behind.

Mom shrieked at Sally, then grabbed me and tried to haul me to the floor under our table.

I resisted, my eyes on my sister.

Sally, calm as ever, had her head cocked to one side, studying the young man.

As he turned back to the weeping hostess, Sally, carrying her filled plate, walked quickly over and upended her mountain of dumplings. On him. Then she grabbed the heavy plate in both hands and broke it over his head.

Now I don’t know about the protective qualities of your average ski-mask. Certainly they are designed to protect one from cold and other uncomfortable-ness.

But I think their effectiveness vis-à-vis—say, a blunt object, is vastly . . . less.

Needless to say, the young man went down like a sack of hammers.

Possibly he was thinking he’d just been hit by one.

As he fell, Sally swooped in and wrenched the gun from his hand. Then held it up triumphantly.

Which was nearly as scary for me as when the young bandit was holding it.

A couple of very large men dove for the guy on the floor and sat on him.

Mom ran for Sally, taking the gun from her hand and laying it carefully on the counter.

I started breathing again.

Mom put her arms around Sally. As I joined them, I could see that Sally was totally unruffled and unconcerned by the whole experience.

While Mom was trembling so hard I thought she would fall. “Sally! Sally! Sally!” she was saying over and over.

“I’m okay, Mom,” Sally assured her, giving her a quick pat on the back.

“You did well, Sis,” I said. “But please don’t ever do that again!”

Sally just shrugged.

Flashing lights lit up the windows and moments later, several police officers burst through the front doors, guns at the ready.

"Hey, guys!" Sally called out.

“Sally?” they all said in unison. “Is that you?”

She grinned and nodded. “There is your prisoner, guys. Under those two.” She pointed and they all turned to look. “I grabbed the gun!”

“This gun?” One of them pointed to the weapon on the counter.

She nodded.
With the would-be weapon sitting innocently on the counter, and their alleged perpetrator helplessly pinned beneath two . . . . erm . . . buffet patrons, the officers holstered (is that the right word?) their guns.

One looked at Sally, then at the weapon, rolled his eyes and shook his head. Muttering something that could have been ‘crazy dame’, he donned gloves, produced a plastic bag and tucked the gun into it.

Another officer grabbed his handset. “Cancel the helicopter, Mac,” he said. “It looks like everything is wrapped here.”

The other policemen proceeded to free, then cuff and remove their prisoner. And gather statements.

Sally moved off, her goal obviously the dumpling table.

Taking a fresh plate and humming happily to herself, she started dishing.

Use Your Words is a challenge. Each month, Karen of Baking in a Tornado collects and re-distributes words. And we have the fun of doing something with what we receive!

This month, my words: damage ~ replenish ~ helicopter ~ panic ~ goal ~ stage, came to me from my amazing friend, Jenniy at Climaxed