I’m watching Pike.
I like to watch people.
It annoys me, but I can’t stop doing it.
Perhaps I’m a voyeur.
I’m definitely a voyeur.
Let’s face it.
We’re all voyeurs.
That’s why ‘You’ve been Framed’ is still on telly.
That’s why porn is popular.
That’s why people who live in flats buy telescopes.
We’re all peepers.
I’m watching Pike.
What’s he eating?
He’s always eating.
Jaw champing up and down beneath that scrubby little moustache, his eyes glazed over.
What’s he thinking?
Staring into middle distance.
He crumples up the wrapper, pops it in the bin.
Jaw still working.
His hand slides towards his pocket.
A chocolate bar.
Looks like a Penguin.
Yes, it’s a Penguin.
“You greedy, fat, bald headed, tashy-faced cunt bag!”
He’s a body builder.
He’s always having a go at Pike.
Pike slowly chews, carefully swallows, and clears his throat.
“No, you fuck off, you pig faced, dough bodied, chocolate smeared sack of crap!”
Pike can’t answer.
His mouth is full.
Glutes laughs as he goes by.
He’s carrying a tupperware container the size of a child’s coffin.
It’s full of potatoes and beans.
He eats more than Pike, truth be told.
It’s just that Glutes turns his calorie intake into muscle by lifting huge weights in his garage to make up for his cock size.
Pike must be pretty well hung.
He doesn’t seem to mind being fat.
He watches Glutes go into the locker room.
There’s a microwave oven in there.
Pike’s eyes are still kind of glazed, his jaw goes up and down, his moustache wriggles beneath his nose, but he’s watching.
The door to the locker room opens and out comes Glutes.
He isn’t carrying the tupperware.
“Hey, Pike, you lard-arsed, twat-faced window licker! Is that a Snickers in your pocket or are you checking out my guns?”
Glutes flexes a huge bicep, and swaggers off, laughing.
Pike doesn’t say anything.
He looks at something in his pocket.
It’s a Snickers.
He watches Glutes go.
Then he wanders over to the locker room.
It’s cold out here.
Everyone is in the car park.
The fire alarm is going off.
Smoke is drifting out of the factory door.
I look over at Pike.
He’s eating that Snickers bar, his face impassive.
I can hear sirens in the distance.
Sytex is shivering.
“Fuck this. I’m nipping in for my coat.”
He sneaks through the door.
He staggers back out, followed by Bear, who is raging.
“Sack that man!” he screams. “Sack that man!”
Bear is carrying something.
He’s got hold of an electrical lead at arms length.
On the other end is a microwave oven, billowing out black smoke.
He hurls it into the car park, where it bounces and clatters across the tarmac.
the door comes off.
A big blob of melted plastic flops out, followed by the cindered remains of several potatoes.
Glutes is crestfallen.
“Aww! That was my dinner!”
A little smile peeps out from underneath Pike’s moustache.
“What the fuck are you grinning about?” snarls Glutes. “I’m fucking starving now!”
“Never mind,” says Pike. “You needed to lose some weight anyway, you fat cunt.”