Standoff

They were massive. Standing so close you’d be forgiven for thinking they were one entity, except nothing so big’s roamed the land in 65 million years. Two, each enormous. Not fighting, not exactly, but they weren’t hugging, either. It was starting to snow heavily, making this standoff particularly impractical, but on it went. Neither backing down. Both jaws clenched. Four eyes bulging. Inaudible mumbles of intimidation.

A bystander for longer than you leans your way to whisper, not averting their gaze, that it escalated from an everyday traffic incident. One, grazing along the shops and restaurants, crossing the street. The other part of a stampede of traffic, turning and in a hurry.

It was difficult to distinguish the aggressor and the victim. Though, by this point, lack of reconciliation, neither offered nor accepted, had turned the victim into an aggressor, too. You know without checking you aren’t the only onlooker expecting and fearing this becomes violent.

The police arrive to vent the tension, take things down a notch. Their presence has somewhat the opposite effect, at least momentarily, as one final gesture of intimidation from one taunts the other into a brawl. One rears to strike, offering just enough space for the officers to intervene and pry them apart. The police take statements, distilling two stories from the gestures and heavy breathing. The scene only starts to dissipate when the one, you think the driver, is escorted away.

A beat news reporter gets quotes from onlookers and one of the officers, feeds them to the producers of the local evening news. At 11:00, between news about snow and football, the anchor reads: “Buffalo buffalo buffalo Buffalo buffalo.”