What is the dumbest thing in the world to get arrested for? Mutual Pasta Battery.

I didn’t make that up.

First off, thank you again Florida, you guys really know how to do it down there. A couple in Clearwater, Florida were arrested on August 2^nd when officers responded to a domestic violence call around one o’clock in the morning. When officers arrived on scene, they found Stephanie Lannas and her boyfriend Adolfo Rivera covered in Spaghetti sauce. The couple appear to have decided to have a late night (or early morning) spaghetti dinner. Somehow the conversation, or maybe the food, took a turn for the worse and an argument turned physical when they engaged in mutual combat wielding plates of spaghetti.

This is no way a true rendering of how or why this incident occurred, but this is how I hope it happened.

You probably don’t know this but there is a long running debate in America on whether Spaghetti sauce is a sauce or a gravy. I’m not kidding.

Gravy is defined as, “A sauce made from cooked meat juices together with stock and other ingredients.”

Sauce is defined as, “thick liquid served with food, usually savory dishes, to add moistness and flavor.”

Researching this nonsense, I found out that the debate is quite the big deal in some Italian American circles. So, When I read this article my first impression, after saying to myself, What the hell? Then seeing this happened in Florida being like, oh, I get it. Then, after all that, I had to guess that this is what happened.

Since I’m completely making this next part up, I’m changing the names of the accused to something a little more…fictional.

Samantha and Al didn’t close down the bar like they usually did every Monday night (the 2^nd was a Monday-these two obviously know how to party). Al was hungry. Starving in fact. But he didn’t want something easy like Waffle House. He wanted spaghetti and meatballs, and he wanted the spaghetti and meatballs that was in the fridge at home. Because Sam made it and her sauce was the best. The pasta, seasoned meatballs, and sauce/gravy (?) called to him so he convinced Samantha to bail before last call so they could eat.

By the time they got home Al had complained so much about being hungry that Samantha was starving too. They warmed the leftovers in the microwave and Al made them each a plate. Samantha noticed when he served her that he had a bigger helping than she did, but she let it go because there was more in the fridge. She took a stab and rolled the pasta around her fork then took a bite. It was a little dry from the fridge and being re-heated. That’s an easy fix, she thought.

“Hey Bae, can you pass the gravy?”

Al stopped eating and looked at her. Through a mouthful of noodles and a bite of meatball he asked, “Why do you want gravy for spaghetti and meatballs?” Gross, he thought.

Samantha scoffed, “What else would I put on spaghetti?” she pointed at the big bowl of spaghetti sauce/gravy(?) sitting next to him, “come on I can’t reach,”

Al checked out the bowl of spaghetti gravy/sauce (?), “You mean spaghetti sauce?”

Samantha sighed, “Oh no, you’re one of them,”

“One of what?”

Samantha put her fork down and leaned back in her chair, arms crossed, “Spaghetti is a pasta which is covered by a red gravy for flavor and taste,”

Al is confused, “Spaghetti is covered in spaghetti sauce. It’s in the name, s-p-a-g-h-e-t-t-I s-a-u-c-e,” he over enunciated the words.

Samantha slammed her hand on the table so hard he thought she might have broken a nail, “Tell that to my grandma! She cooked the gravy for us every week since I was a little girl! Every Sunday we eat spaghetti, with the gravy she spent all week cooking!” Samantha stood, towering over him, “Spaghetti is covered with gravy, not a sauce!”

No one talks to Al like that, no one! He jumped to his feet, getting right back in her face, “It says spaghetti sauce on the goddamned label!” he screamed.

Samantha’s eyes flared. She yanked her plate from the table and smashed the spaghetti and meatballs in his face. Al’s favorite Affliction t-shirt an acid washed jeans, destroyed. Pasta was worming its way into his nose and the ‘gravy’ burned his eyes as Samantha gound the plate around his nose, “That taste like a sauce to you! Gravy is a liquid made from cooking meat juices and other seasonings! There’s ground beef in this bitch!”

Al groped blindly at the table before latching onto his plate. He whacked the plate and its contents across the side of her head lodging some ground beef in Samantha’s ear. The attack completely destroyed her make-up and more ground beef got stuck in her hair.

“Ahh!” she squealed as a warm plop of gravy/sauce(?) landing on her toed slip ons, “How could you?” she screamed.

The doorbell rang before Al could show her what she did to his shirt.

“Clearwater Police! Open up!”

“Oh shit,” says Al.

Samantha waved her hand in a flourish, “See, now look what you did!”

“Police! Open the door!” this time the voice was louder.

The two of them tracked red sauce/gravy(?) across the living room carpet and opened the door as one.

Two cops stood to either side of the front door. The one to the lefts jaw fell to the floor. The one to the right started laughing.

“Something wrong officers?” asked Al.

The cop on the left recovered before the one on the right, “Your neighbors reported sounds of a struggle coming from your residence,” he lets the accusation hang in the air for a moment as he watches pasta and tomato fall from Al’s chin.

Samantha tried a ‘get out of a ticket’ smile and batted her eyes through a face full of food, “Officer, do you know the difference between sauce and gravy?”

The cop on the right is stumped, “What?”

The one on the left’s name plate reads ‘Spinelli’,

“No,” he answered.

Samantha takes in a deep breath, her eyes growing wide.

Spinelli, put a hand up, trapping the pregnant tirade in her lungs, “No one cares about spaghetti sauce, both of you turn and put your hands behind your backs,”

Al and Samantha comply meekly. As the cuffs go on Al speaks over his shoulder, “You guys think I could get a towel before we go?”

Samantha hissed, “Shut up Al. You’ve done enough,”

Al looked at her, defeat clear across his red smeared face, “You guys gonna make me ride with her to the station?”

Reference:

http://www.thesmokinggun.com/documents/stupid/spaghetti-battery-629538