As I had forgotten to pack a lunch today, and given the massive queue at the sandwich-place-that’s-closest-to-work, I offered to go to McMeumeumeu to Carlos.
His face instantly lit up.
It has to be said that I very rarely condescend to
eat consume quasi-food products in the place with the big yellow M (for ‘merde’) on the door.
The atmosphere soon took a turn for the worse though as Carlos reflected sadly on the unprecedented levels of violence impacting our world (I tried to explain to him that the levels of violence have been higher in the past – late 80s and early 90s spring to mind* – but that it wasn’t so close to home, so barely noticeable).
By the time he had finished his quarter pounder with cheese, there was little hope for humanity.
By the time he grabbed his diet coke, we were a doomed race.
When the long rattling slurp he produced through his straw reminded us both of the trumpets of the apocalypse, I was faced with a binary choice.
Either comfort him and try to lighten things up like any decent friend would.
Or whip my camera out from under the table and immortalise the sad slurping moment.