"Where's the boss? Get your ass over here, now!" Scarface roared as he shot to his feet. He kicked the table over, and skewers and beer bottles scattered across the floor. The other patrons in the restaurant stared at them in astonishment.
The owner hurried over, his expression a mixture of tension and confusion. "What's wrong? What's wrong? Sirs, is there something you're not satisfied with?"
Scarface shouted viciously, "You have the gall to ask me what's wrong? Goddammit, tell me, did you put shit in our food? Fuck, what the hell did we ever do to you for you to pull this kind of crap? If you can't give us a satisfactory explanation today, I'll tear this whole damn restaurant down!"
Hearing this, the faces of the customers at the other tables instantly paled.
'Holy shit, there's shit in the BBQ? Could this be any more fucking disgusting?!'
"That's bullshit! You're slandering us!"
