"Ladies, dinner time!" the black man announced in a mocking tone, looking at the women in the room.
A derisive smile played on his lips, his eyes filled with contempt as his gaze brazenly roamed over the women.
When Erica saw the potato chips in his hands, the rage simmering in her heart instantly erupted. She began to curse, "You bastards! Can't you fry a goddamn egg? You don't know how to make toast? Every day it's either potato chips or Oreos. I'm going to puke!"
"Hey, woman. I may not be into women, but that doesn't mean I won't hit one. You really think this is a Michelin restaurant? Take it or leave it!"
The man glared viciously at Erica, his eyes filled with an undisguised threat. Then, as if feeding livestock, he tossed the bags of chips onto the floor one by one.
The chip bags traced arcs through the air, landing on the floor with a series of CRINKLES.
"Untie our hands! How are we supposed to eat otherwise?!" Erica demanded.
