#aboutlastnight (ONC 2020 Shortlist)

Applied Physics

You know how they say your life flashes before your eyes when faced with your mortality?

Well, I keep trying, but the memories of my first princess-themed birthday party keep getting interrupted by something as trivial as physics.

Pink ribbons and purple ruffles leave way to force, acceleration and angles. Yes, angles, not angels, because paper angels would be a step in the right direction. It's dreary and boring, like I'm back in school again. #funisforthesoul #happymemoriesmattermorethanphysics

Physics wins out. Before I can talk myself out of it, my butt leaves the chair, and my right hand grabs its leg right as I lower myself to table level.

I'm unsure how I can move this fast, how I know exactly where to throw, but the chair jerks out of my hand and straight into the goon holding the gun. Before the other ass can make a move, I flip the table over and pull Fifi behind it. #friendsareimportant

Though I'm half sure I just pulled her to safety because I wanted to use the chair under her. I toss it at the remaining goon.

Fifi screams, because, unlike me, she actually still has some sense. All I do is keep throwing things, effectively trashing my favorite Starbucks and everyone's propriety.

Mugs and beanbags fly as well as a random laptop I pick off the table of some hipster. The sound of shooting guns doesn't even make me flinch, only gives me a better knowledge of the location of our assailants.

Assailants. Huh. Can't remember the last time I used that word.

"Get him!"

"You get him! I have shards in my eyes!"

I don't like these men. They're very rude and have forced me to do property damage and ruin the day of some perfectly nice people.

One of the baristas pulls a shotgun out from under the counter and all I can think of is how I wish I had a shotgun, too. I could take out their kneecaps in ten seconds.

Damian is a very violent man. When all this is over, we need to have words. Until then, I let his muscled arms do what they want, which in this case is toss the entire table towards our attackers before using another random chair to break the front window.

Then, through a rain of broken glass and ricocheting bullets, I grab Fifi's arm and we make our exit.

"Omigod, omigod, omigod..." she keeps saying and I fight the impulse to tell her to stop wasting her breath.

I don't want to be that guy.

"Carolyn, what are we going to do?"

The screech in her voice makes me grind my teeth. As much as I'm trying to be zen right now, her voice is getting on my nerves. Damian must have some different hearing nerves or something because I don't recall ever thinking Fifi has an annoying voice.

Now she's reminding me of Janice from Friends and I'm not sure if that's a good thing or not. I've lost so much of myself over the past few minutes.

You haven't lost anything.

That inner voice sounds a lot like Damian and I can't deal with this right now. I need to get out of here and think. But first, I need to take out this dagger I'm carrying strapped to my calf for some reason and slash the tires of the motorcycles parked next to mine.

Then I give Fifi the helmet for protection, instruct her to get in the back, and use my new set of impressive skills to get her out of there.

Giving her the helmet was a good idea because I swear to God she does not shut up for one freaking minute. At least the helmet is muffling her words and I can concentrate on actually driving. I need this skill in my life, just in case I get attacked again, so I actively pay attention to everything my body is doing.