High Society by Samuel Gore

Stuart Messlebrush, a stoic figure of fifty three visited McDonalds for the first time today. He was with his wife Irene, and as they had made no reservations, they thought they should experiment. On the table next to them sat a young man eating a wrap that was quite obviously listening and was making no attempt to hide it.

‘Is he still looking at us,’ Irene whispered in her native Winchester accent.

‘Don’t look at him, dear. Just enjoy your meal, and we’ll head to the theatre with the more refined folk. This evening can still be salvaged.’

‘He looks so thin, maybe we should talk to him.’

‘No dear, he’s just a stray; you don’t know where he’s been. Leave him be. Remember the last one?’

Irene looked down at her food and sighed. ‘I was so fond of little George.’

Stuart looked at his Big Mac and wished he had brought some silver cutlery with him. ‘Yes, for a month. Then we came back and the rascal had stolen your jewellery. No doubt pawned it for heroin.’

‘Now, now dear. We don’t know that for sure. Maybe one of his many siblings had leukaemia and couldn’t pay the hospital bill, or the vet or where ever these people go. I’m sure he wouldn’t have gone without saying goodbye unless it was urgent.’

Stuart spluttered on a lump of beef, coughing the meat into a napkin. He folded it into a neat triangle. ‘Fine talk to the critter. But don’t blame me when he takes all your brooches.’

She turned to face the young man, who was looking down at his phone, pretending to type.

‘You there, do you have a home to go to?

The boy looked at her with wide eyes and a blank expression on his face, clearly exasperated. ‘I do, yes.’

‘Oh, well that’s good. Tell me, have you ever been to the theatre?’

Again the boy looked at her wearily. Stuart coughed and gave his wife a questioning look.

‘I’m sorry son; my wife get’s carried away. You go back to your phone.’

Grateful of the gentlemen’s offer, his gaze returned to the screen.

‘See dear, not everyone wants to come with us.’

Irene picked up one of her fries attentively. ‘Oh I guess so. It’s a shame; he’s such a pretty little thing.’

As the boy left, she watched him with sadness. They ate the rest of their meal in silence until there was nothing left.
‘He would have made such a good pet don’t you think.’