she huffs.
“Some tater tots,” I say politely and offer her a kind smile.
I will not judge. For all I know, she could be a very nice person underneath all that spray tan.
Tatiana makes an irritated sound. Then she scoops up three measly tater tots and plops them onto a plate.
“May I please have more?” My tone is patient and courteous.
“No!” she sneers and thrusts the plate at me, dismissing me like I’m some sort of insignificant insect.
I remain glued to the spot, much too shaken to retaliate.
The unabomber’s plate was swimming with tater tots, and I only get a few scraps?
Tatiana flicks her stringy peroxided hair over her shoulder and turns her attention to Truong. My jaw literally drops when she gives him the same appalling treatment.
WTF?!? We have done nothing to her (well at least not yet; I’m fully confident that Truong can be a bitch enough for the both of us). What is Miss Tangerine’s problem? Truong and I may not be walking testosterones, but we’re still human beings nonetheless.
“What do you want?” Tatiana’s tone is sharp and rude. “Hurry up! I haven’t got all day here.”
Big mistake. Big, BIG mistake. Queen Truong takes shit from nobody! She has undeniably awakened the sleeping dragon.
“Some tater tots.” Truong narrows his steely eyes at her.
Tatiana returns his contemptuous gaze and slaps two tater tots onto a plate.
“Bitch! You better give me more tater tots,” he screams in a blood curling voice.
There is a moment of still silence in the cafeteria as several heads turn curiously to check out the commotion. Little do they know that the drama has only just begun.
Tatiana glares at Truong scornfully. Then she picks up one puny tater tot and plops it onto the plate.
The tater tot drops with a sickening thud.
“There ya go!” she sneers.
Truong goes ballistic. “Now you look at me, Miss Tan-o-rexia Nervosa!”
Tatiana remains intentionally obtuse. “Fuck you, faggot,” she spits and flips Truong a birdie.
Truong flies into a blind rage. “Is that all you’ve got bitch? You give me the finger and call me an eff-ing fag? You know what? That lame tattoo of a dead moth that’s on yer back is so befitting! It’s what I call a tramp stamp. And it’s so nineties.”
Tatiana’s face contorts.
But Truong is far from finished. When Truong wants to bitch, he can bitch up a Katrina level storm. “And please do me a favor and throw on some intense Pro V repair treatment. I am sick of looking at your split ends.”
Slightly dazed, Tatiana touches her parched hair.
“And news flash! You’re no Kim Kardashian. If I were you, I’d cover up that sorry excuse for an ass. Now you take these tater tots and stuff ‘em up your nonexistent, cellulite, ricotta cheese behind!”
With that parting shot, Truong chucks the plate of tater tots at Tatiana’s face and yanks my arm. “C’mon. Let’s go, Maddy,” he commands and storms off in a fury.
As I’m being dragged away by Truong, I peer over my shoulder.
Tatiana appears flummoxed, and for a fleeting moment, my heart goes out to her.
But she quickly recovers. Straightening herself, she pelts us with tater tots with an almost deadly precision. The flying tater tots go whizzing over our heads like hot bullets.
Okay, now I don’t feel sorry for her anymore.
Truong and I break into a run, dodging tater tots, shrieking hysterically and ducking for cover.
When we’re safely out of Tatiana’s tater shot, Truong bursts into rhyme. “There’s some hoes in this house. There’s some hoes in this house. There’s some hoes in this house,” he raps in a low, grating voice.
Gasping for breath, I tease, “Calm down, MC Truong. Now do you mean holes, hoes or whores?”
“She’s a whore,” he hisses. “But back in the hood, we say hoe!”
“Okay.” I snicker.
“Fo shizzle,” he foshizzes, crossing his arms.
Then he busts out chops to a different rap. “Got lice bitch? Got lice? Got Kikkoman spice in your flied lice?”
I double over.
“Westsiiide, Wu-Tang,” he grunts gangsta style. Then he flicks his scarf around his neck in a dramatic fashion, and instantly all his thug-like credibility evaporates into thin air.
“Maddy, that Tatiana is one nasty bitch. And what the hell is wrong with Mika? Why would he go out with a messed up chick like that? I’m completely gobsmacked!”
I shrug morosely. I’m gobsmacked myself.
Sometime later, I’m logging in to my computer when an alarming thought suddenly strikes me. Tatiana is a real threat. Ingeborg was just an empty threat, like the Weapons of Mass Destruction. As much