Rats
I was sitting out on the deck at one of my favorite restaurants in Laguna Beach with a few friends, being bitchy and dishing gossip about the friends that didn’t join us, when we heard a loud crash from inside the restaurant, followed by a couple of shouts from the kitchen.
Doug got up and peeked inside the while the rest of us figured aloud that brunch would take a few minutes longer to reach our table.
Then, we heard the scream.
Doug turned back to the table and shrugged.
Then, just as he was about to rejoin us, he glanced down at the floor, let out a high scream, virtually sprinted back to the table and jumped on his chair like a frightened elephant from a Bugs Bunny cartoon.
From out of the restaurant came at least a dozen rats, all fleeing the murderous ire of a kitchen chef and the restaurant’s manager, who gave us a nervous smile as he gave chase to the escaping vermin.
The only thing that made the whole situation worth the inherent iciness of it was getting to see seeing (the normally very butch) Doug leaping on top of his chair, shrieking like a tea kettle because of a few mice.
Needless to say, we didn’t stick around for mimosas.