Is this really the place for that?

With all the grace and class of a steer splattered over the landscape by a depleted uranium sabot round, so too is a domestic squabble an equal contributor to the zen of my evening. There is nothing that sets the sparkle on my naturally open, sunny disposition quite like the unexpected explosion of angry voices from the arcade area. The shriek of outraged femininity perfectly counter pointed the growl of incensed masculinity.

At least they had the manners to leave the building of their own volition before I had to descend upon them in righteous wrath. They did get a formidable disapproving glare for their troubles however.

One might think that since this occurrence was of such brief duration that it would be easily dismissed. At the worst, perhaps they had been victims of bad timing in regards to a lovers spat. One might suggest that they conducted themselves as well as could be asked.

They'd be wrong. Why? Because this is habitual behavior for this particular couple. Once might be excused, but after that, I must assume they are picking this location to provoke the other or somehow crowd the other's comfort level. That makes it a premeditated act of aggression in my eyes.

The other customers get nervous, wanting to avoid and ignore the fight in their midst. It makes people in the arcade apprehensive. It makes the staff anxious about whether it will erupt into violence. Ounce for ounce a domestic dispute within the store is an icy shot of migraine to the heart.

Freya's rusty bed-springs, I'd love to know why the bloody hell some people think this, or any store, is a suitable forum for the venting of their interpersonal angst. I wonder if long exposure to show's like Geraldo and Jerry Springer has numbed the populace to such breaches of decorum. In any case, I'm glad to be quit of them.