Eat Yourself Whole


On my way to see Prince, I’m walking down Waterloo East concourse with dinner – a cheap and not particularly lovely burger. (Later on, in Redhill, I do the same and have to haggle with the staff about the price. I dislike knowing more about a comapnies products than the people who work there. Haggling to get the correct change at Burger King. Is there a sign on me saying ‘Sucker’?)

“Give me some of that”, he says.

“Nah I’m hungry.” I retort.

There’s two of them. They don’t look poor. As the staff at CEX say a few days later – in reference to a thief caught on security camera – they’re Generic Rudeboys.

They don’t look as if they need the food. Plenty of hot meals those guys.

“Come on,” he pleads. “Sharing’s Caring!”

And I think “Eating’s Cheating, Fuck Off.”

But two against one aren’t the kind of odds I want or like. And fundamentally, I, like the Joker, want everyone to just get along. I’m not one for conflict. I’m a wimp.

“Come on man, I’m black”, he says.

I almost fall over laughing.

Instead, I do the stonyface thing. They walk off and shoot me meaningful looks.
- posted by Mark @ 9:48 pm