The man in the awful suit with the dripping ketchup gun looked like something off of a Saturday morning cartoon from decades' past. He looked around the mostly empty all day breakfast diner and then backhanded a pie rack off of the bar counter. The man looked around to see if anyone was watching, as if he really needed an audience. With his ridiculous ketchup gun and condiment backpack he couldn't have weighed more than one hundred and fifty pounds. Still, an old lady, a slightly pregnant teenager, and a senior citizen cook weren't gonna put up much of a fight.
Flying Stag was sitting at the booth with Hector as the scene went on. The goofy looking man began preaching on and on about how all day breakfast was making it hard for an up and comer to get a fast food chain going. He complained about the president some, talked smack about Burger Queen, but then he screwed up big time. While the cook was occupied with what was going on, the pie rack in the floor and busted all to pieces, the boys' pancakes began to burn. Unknown to most of the patrons the emergency switch to spray fires was broken. It had been for years, and for this long the family owned business got by just fine.
"There's a fire quick...!" the cook began to shout as the man in the suit pointed his gun at the pregnant girl.
"Nobody's going ANYWHERE! Before I forget, gimme everything in the register grandma. NOW!" the teal clad criminal screamed.
"B..Bu.. But we've only made forty-two dollars so far today..?" the woman pleaded.
"Oh for the love of..." the Condiment King began to respond before noticing Jon Flying Stag was now right behind him.
"I'm sorry I didn't get up sooner, are you okay miss?" Stag asked the pregnant girl crouching for cover behind a table chair and extending his hand.
"Hector... I think the fire was the pancakes." Stag stated, "If you want to call the authorities, we will hang around for awhile. I don't think he could get up from that if he wanted to, but just in case..." Flying Stag began to say to the elder woman before crushing the ketchup gun under his boot.