``Horseradish!'' he screamed, his throat afire, his eyes watering.
``You put horseradish in my sandwich! You know I can't tolerate it!''
``Its not horseradish. Its Chinese mustard. I had a little pack-''
He hit her then. Knocked her onto the floor. Her head just missed the corner of the table. She lay back on the carpet, resting on her elbows. She couldn't believe it. This didn't happen to her. She was liberated.
``It wasn't horseradish!''
She took herself and the baby to a shelter for battered women. At first they were all sympathy. But she didn't have any bruises.
``He knocked me down!'' she said. ``He said I put horseradish in his sandwich. I didn't. I put Chinese mustard in it. I thought it would be good...''
A stunned silence fell in the office. Heads turned. Terminals froze.
``You put Chinese mustard in the sandwich of a person who can't tolerate horseradish? You may have caused a toxic reaction! Is he alright? Did you check on him?''
``There is no horseradish in Chinese mustard!''
``Its the same stuff!''
``No!''
``Yes!''
``We better send a car to make sure your husband's OK.''
His face was red and blotchy. He was sitting in the kitchen watching Survivor and drinking a beer.
``If you've come to arrest me I admit it. I hit her. She put horseradish in my sandwich.''
They checked his pulse and blood pressure. Examined his rage induced hives. They wrote a report. He wanted them to arrest his wife. They thought not.
A civil suit might be in order, they said.