Knuckle Sandwich With A Side of Pain by Hunte

Part 1

You and a friend decide to treat yourselves to a nice dinner one night. Unfortunately, an ill-placed foot ends up tripping a waiter, leaving you with the very real possibility of getting a knuckle sandwich for dinner!

The tray made a loud bang when it hit the floor, the sound of shattering plates and glasses echoing around the space and drawing the eye of every single person in the establishment. While thankfully the plates and glasses had been empty as the residue of a cleared table, the mess was still considerate, and the waiter’s anger even more so.

“Son of a bitch!” the lean yet still fairly muscular server said as he looked down at the mess, then over at the table to his right. You and I are sitting their shocked, my extended leg still out there. I sheepishly pulled it in, though it’s too late as the waiter has seen it and storms over to the table.
“Do you have any idea how many plates you just broke?!” he yelled. “Those come out of my pay, you know!”
“S-sorry!” I say, wincing. “It was an accident!”
“Hey, lay off, buddy,” you say, standing up and facing the waiter. “It’s a few plates, and he said he was sorry! We can pay for them if you want to.”
“Oh we’re way past that!” the waiter growls, undoing his apron and throwing it on the floor. “You guys are really gonna get it now!”
“Okay, fine!” I say, getting out of my own chair. “Go and get the manager then, we’ll wait for youuUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUFFFF!” All the air that was left in my lungs suddenly left them rapidly, inflating my cheeks and widening my eyes as I felt a big weight sink deep into my stomach. My head droops down, my eyes widening even more as I see that the waiter’s fist is buried in my belly, sucking my shirt into my gut along with it. I stagger backwards, bending over and wheezing as I feel my intestines roil from the punch.
“Hey!” you exclaim as you walk forward. “You cant do tha-ugh! Guh! Gah!” Your own exclamation is cut off as the waiter’s fist thumps into your chin, knocking your head upward. Almost as soon as it comes back down it snaps backward twice, some drool flying from your mouth as the waiter pops you in the face with two jabs, one your left cheek while the other tags your right.
“I’m sick and tired of people like you guys treating us like dirt!” the waiter said before he turned and slugged me in the jaw. My head turns to the side, more drool spraying as my cheek gets rolled up and I stagger. “I hope you guys liked your meal ‘cuz you’re gonna be tasting it again!” He turns back to you, crouching low and driving a blow into your belly.
“Oooooooooofff!” You jackknife slightly around his fist as it buries into your gut, your rump snapping backward slightly. Still crouching low the waiter continues to launch jab after jab and punch after punch into your gut. You start to jerk and hop around, your cheeks puffing up over and over again as you let out a rhythmic “Oof! Oof! Oof! Oof! Oof! Oof! Oof! Oof!” noise, one sound coming with each punch in your belly.
I can’t see you in pain like that, and get up, advancing on the waiter. “Hey! Pick on someone youOOUF!” My taunt is cut off as he buries his elbow in my belly, my cheeks puffing once again.
“Oh, you’re still up?” the waiter asks, leaving off his belly beating and turning to me. I can see your face, still winded and now fairly woozy, as he advances on me, his fists up. “I can fix that!” I try and raise my own fists in a boxing pose, but too late.
Whack!
“Guh!”
Whop!
“Ugh!”
Crack! Crack! Smack!
“Oof! Ugh! Ow!”
Now I’m the one getting worked over, my cheeks and jaw and chin being popped again and again by the waiter’s surprisingly quick fists. My head snaps backward with each punch, my eyes already starting to spin in their sockets as the waiter drives me back across the room, punching me in the face again and again as I start to stagger around. Finally…
POW!
I go spinning as the waiter slugs me in the face and plop my other cheek against a window, flattening it out into a pink pancake. With a loud squeaking noise I start to slide down it, smushing my cheek up even more before I’m finally able to pull myself off. I can hear the sounds of fists impacting flesh and your own sounds of pain, groans, yeeps, eeps, and yelps echo around the restaurant.
As I finally focus on you both, you’re still standing, but you’re quite clearly out of it, your body swaying and your eyes half-open and glassy and your mouth hanging open stupidly; you’d clearly taken quite a beating. As I watch the waiter winds up and slams an uppercut right into your chin. You make a loud “Blagh!” noise as you’re lifted off of your feet and flop backwards onto the table, your bruised belly facing the restaurant ceiling as you lie there. I see your body, specifically your feet, twitch a bit before going completely limp. I stagger forward, seeing the waiter turn around too late.
POW! His punch uppercuts me just as it did you, bringing me to my tiptoes before I fall back on the flats of my soles. Knocked for a loop I’m helpless as the waiter bends low and starts punching me in the belly again and again. I jerk and twitch just like you did as the waiter’s fists beat a tattoo on my belly, creating short-lived craters in my belly flesh. I drape over him, my chin on his shoulder as he slings uppercuts into my stomach over and over again. Finally he dogwalks me over to the table that you’re slung over, pushing me backward into a similar position that you’d been in. I stand there, swaying woozily, just as you did, before once again a hook hits my jaw with a loud POW!
I spin this time, all consciousness leaving me as I flop forward, draping myself over the table right next to your own comatose body, my fingers twitching a bit before falling still.
“Yeah, I’ll get the manager,” the waiter growled. “You two can meet him in the parking lot when we discuss paying for all this stuff!” With that he goes off to fetch the manager, while everyone else goes back to their eating. A few applaud the waiter as he walks off, some laughing at our ridiculous poses. We’d wake up later after the restaurant closed, the manager meeting us on our awakening and arranging for our paying for the plates and glasses we smashed. The waiter that had worked us both over wouldn’t be punished, however; the staff after the work day had ended had gotten a good laugh out of the restaurant’s security footage of us being beaten up.
We weren’t banned from the restaurant, but the manager did invite us to come back anytime…likely for the prospect of us once again getting beaten up.

PART 2

Knuckle Sandwich Revenge



The waiter was walking down the beach, completely unaware of what was in store for him. It had been several months since he had beaten you and I up in that restaurant, and though we hadn’t been back since then (I don’t think we could even ever show our faces there again after the ass-kicking that we’d taken), after we’d woken up we’d harbored thoughts of revenge. Now, finally, on this beach, our time had come.
We had noticed, during the last few days we’d been watching him that he’d often come to this portion of the beach alone. This segment of the beach was fairly isolated from the rest, but there was a little bay and a beach around it that made it a good little private area if you wanted to be able to tan or sunbathe or swim in private. Then again, this also worked to our advantage, because if there was no one else around to find this beach, there would also be no one to see the guy getting pounded.
We watched the guy roll out his towel on the beach, setting down a small cooler and an umbrella as he set up his sunbathing spot. As he laid down on his towel and closed his eyes to start relaxing, you and I look at one another. We hadn’t brought anything but our fists to try and get our revenge, but we were both fairly confident that that would be all that we needed. Now that we were sure we could sneak up on the guy, we left our hiding spot and snuck up along the beach.

We snuck up on the waiter without him hearing us, taking care to stay out of the sunlight to keep our shadows from falling across his body and telling him that we’re here. In unison we lifted our feet…then brought them down on his gut.
Despite how easily the waiter had beaten us both up, he basically had no abs. His stomach was essentially a two-pack, just a small crease down the middle of his stomach from workouts that so far hadn’t really yielded any results. As such, as we stomped our feet down onto his stomach, they sank in a pretty good ways.
“OOOOOOOOOMPH!” he whoofed out a lot of air as our feet sank into his stomach, but we didn’t give him any time to recover. We hauled him upright by his shoulders, leaving him on his feet. But even then we didn’t give him time to get his breath back. We each wound our fists back and then slugged him in the belly, both of our uppercuts burying themselves deep in his belly. He let out another noise, a great big “OOOOOOOOFFF!” as our fists sank into the soft flesh of his gut. The force of the punches actually lifted him to his tiptoes, spit spraying out of his mouth as he staggered backward. He doubled over, clutching his gut and coughing, at least before I moved forward and lashed out with another uppercut. It caught him right on the button of his chin and straightened him up, sending more drool spraying up as he took a few woozy steps backward. We both stepped in again, throwing a pair of kicks out that caught him right in the gut. Another loud WHOOMPH of air actually lifted you off the ground and sent you down onto your back, wheezing loudly.
Immediately you got down on top of him, straddling his waist before he started to repeatedly punch the waiter in the gut. Your fists sank into his soft gut again and again, making loud “OOF” and “UGH” noises as his bare feet kicking around helplessly. You then switched targets, punching him in the face over and over again. I got a lot of satisfaction about hearing the big, meaty thwacks from your fists connecting with his cheeks again and again, slugging him in the face over and over. His kicking only intensified, until one final punch in the jaw made him go stiff, before his limbs flopped to the sides, completely limp.
As you got up off of his body we both looked down at him, panting lightly in satisfaction at getting our revenge. We walked off the beach, leaving the waiter lying there unconscious.