What the pant-shitting fuck.
Chuck momentarily devolved into three people, as he watched the almost cartoonish violence unfold. One wanted to run after those kids, to ask them what the Hell they were doing, or what even just happened. Another wanted to simply sprint back to the auto-shop, pop into his car, and hopefully book it in time to get home before he completely lost his mind. And the third wanted to turn and run back to the Be-Bops, kick open the door, and demand the cure for this madness from a certain fat asshole.
All three jerked in three directions - Chuck awkwardly stumbled and sat down on the curb in utter befuddlement. The kids disappeared around the corner. The scene was over. Chuck sat - bewildered.
"What," he stated into the air, seeming to forget to add the inflection.
With a bleary blink, he brought himself back. Shaking his head (a bit like a dog) the greaser rose to his feet. He stuffed his hands in his pockets, staring down the alley - and the spat of gore in the middle of it.