In a small roadside diner, an elderly man sat quietly, savoring his modest meal. The warm ambiance was interrupted when three rough and rowdy bikers stormed in, their heavy boots echoing on the floor. As they passed the old man’s table, the first biker sneered, grabbed the man’s pie, and snuffed his cigarette out right in the middle of it. He chuckled loudly, proud of his act, and made his way to the counter.
The second biker followed suit, picking up the old man’s glass of milk. With a mocking smirk, he spat into it before placing it back on the table as if it were a grand joke. The third biker decided to take things even further. Without a word, he leaned over and flipped the old man’s plate upside down, scattering food across the table and floor. Satisfied with their antics, they joined each other at the counter, roaring with laughter.
The elderly man sat still for a moment, his expression unreadable. Then, with quiet composure, he stood up, pulled out some cash, and placed it neatly on the table. He didn’t say a single word, didn’t look at the bikers, and walked out of the diner, his pace steady.
As he left, one of the bikers nudged the waitress and said with a smirk, “Not much of a man, huh?”
The waitress glanced out the window and grinned knowingly. “Maybe not,” she replied, “but he sure knows how to handle a truck. He just backed over all three of your motorcycles.”
The laughter in the diner quickly turned to stunned silence.