It was Adam and Georgia’s first date. They’d chosen a cosy little Italian in the exclusive district of Kensington, London. They’d cracked a joke about oysters, Adam had done his spiel about being different to all the other guys, Georgia had made it clear that she wasn’t the kind of girl that slept with men on the first date but had trimmed down below just in case, they’d shared a slightly cold garlic baguette. Now it was time to get down to the nitty-gritty.
“Can we have the bill, please?” Adam asked the waiter, leaning back confidently in his chair.
Georgia smiled coquettishly, fingers stroking the flute of her wine glass. “I’ve had a great time, thank you.”
Their eyes met briefly over the flickering candlelight.
The waiter appeared between them both, coughing politely. “The bill.” He cleared a space between them, clutching the paper in his slender, tanned hands.
Adam and Georgia both paused momentarily.
The waiter nodded knowingly. He’d seen this scene play out more times than he could count.
Placing the bill flat against the table with his right hand, he felt under the table with his left – hesitating when he felt the lever. With one firm twist of his fingers, he yanked the lever down.
The table creaked and shuddered before the centre rose majestically to reveal a glass case of weapons.
Probably should have mentioned this earlier, but it is now the year 3067. Men and women fight to the death for the bill, for their honour, for the love of their countrymen.
As trumpets sounded and diners pushed their chairs back in anticipation, Adam and Georgia lunged forward and grabbed their respective weapons. Adam went for a sword, whilst Georgia rather twistedly selected a flail.
After a gruesome seven-hour battle it was pronounced a draw and they coughed up £46.80 each, including a tip.
Adam and Georgia now live in Surrey with their four children and a Labrador Border Collie cross named Oscar. They laugh about their first date now. Oh, how they laugh.