"Do you need help eating that?" I ask, laughing. Keith's right arm twitches whenever he picks up his fork. He glares at me as his food flies across the small table to the floor. He snorts and laughs with me.
"Well, I am going to say no." he says, switching hands. Our waiter eyes us both when he steps around the chicken on the tile.
"Can I get you anything else besides chicken?" he asks, a bit annoyed. I cover my mouth, but I can't stop laughing. Keith has more control as he orders some pie. I raise my hand for the same. The waiter walks away not amused.
"Dude, calm down. What is your problem?" Keith chuckles. I control my breathing finally.
"It was that funny." I say, through a suppressed giggle. I'm such a girl.
"It's not that funny. Wow. Kale? You surprise me." Keith says. The waiter comes back with our pie but forgets about the chicken. He couldn't see the mess while carrying two plates, and he falls on his back. The two pies hitting a couple. I choke on the pancake I was still chewing. It was so comical the way the waiter slipped on the chicken, his foot sliding both to the left and right. Then his other leg jerking straight up as he landed on his back. His hands, holding our pies, flailing sending the pies into the couple. Splattering their face with cherry and lemon flavors. Then their expressions were priceless because their jaws dropped simultaneously as they looked at the waiter in shock. Then the waiter was unconscious because he had actually hit his head pretty hard. I hold my stomach as the laughter worms it's way back up my throat. I can't help it, and at this point I don't care about the pie. Immediately, people start running everywhere. To the waiter, waitresses cry for him to get up. The couple grabs a pile of napkins and exits the restaurant in a huff. I look at Keith, but he's focused on the waiter. I can't stop laughing, so I step outside. It begins to rain as news reporters run inside. When I have control, a guy pushes me into the wall, and a crowd forms.

"Excuse me, sir? Is it true that you caused the waiter, Bill Johnson, to die? By spilling a bit of chicken?" the obvious news reporter asks. I knew that Keith had actually done it, but that doesn't mean he was a murderer. I decide to lie for him since we're friends.

"Yah, that was me, but it was an accident." I say, without a smirk. The guy nods, like this happens all the time.

"Uh huh, and is it true that you were laughing the whole time?" he asks, again. I couldn't help it. It happened like something for the movies or maybe it was better?

"It happened comically, I honestly couldn't control it." I say, somewhat dodging the question, unintentionally.

"But you were laughing the whole time that Johnson died?" he asks, a pointed question.

"Yes, but I didn't know he had died." I say. Where was Keith, did he seriously ditch me?

"Sir, why did you exit the scene, do you feel guilty for the cause-of-death?" he asks. The crowd nodding sometimes. My body shuts down, and I feel like someone else is answering the rest of his questions. I look through someone else's eyes as the crowd disperses. As the man, who I represent, sits against the wall. I feel him close my eyes. I feel him hug my knees. Then I feel a foot rammed into my shoulder interrupting my thoughts of intrusion.

"Hey, you ok?" Keith asks, sitting beside. "What happened?" Keith touches the shoulder he kicked.

"Uh, nothing. I'm good." I lie.

"No you're not." he says, trapping me. "You're crying. Hey, it wasn't your fault, it was an accident."

"Why am I even here?" I ask, out of context.

"What? You were kicked out, that's why." he blurts out.

"But, why?" I ask, again.

"I don't know. Can we get inside the car at least, it's raining?" he asks. I look at him, and he's soaked. I look at my clothes, about the same.

"Alright." I agree, unlocking the car.