Dragged away

When and if I move out of town, I want to go out in style.
Instead of a big goodbye party and teary goodbyes, I want to do something bigger and better.
First, I'll pack all my shit without telling anyone. I'll line up a new job and home and be ready to move in.
Then, on the big day, I'll invite some friends out to dinner like usual. I'll delete my facebook page just before the meal, get a new phone number and kill my e-mail account. Then, about halfway through the noshing, I want three men dressed in black suits to walk into the restaurant, make a bee line to my table and glare at me.
"Newsweeks? Or should I say Rick Braggerton?" One will ask me.
Then, I'll look up at him and say, "I knew this day would come."
He'll turn to the other two guys and nod and say to me "You'll be coming with us." Then they'll walk me out of the restaurant, drop me off at my car and I'll drive away, never to be seen or heard from again.
It'd be kind of cruel to my friends, but imagine that legacy. They'll have to wonder what happened, why it happened and why that guy called me some weird name.
It might be the only time when I'll seem like a bad ass.