Marquee Moon

Saturday Night in Brit-Wales.

The old biddies sat in the town hall for the annual summer festival dinner. Clyde looked at her fork.

“Why we do ‘his bollocks fo?” she asked. Aisha smacked her on the arm.

“Ow!” Clyde howled.

“Have some class, you will?” the leader hissed her under breath. Clyde stuck out her tongue.

“Wish they would let us eat already,” Muriel complained.              

“They have to do their speeches,” Aisha reminded her.

“But why?” Lewis asked. The leader put up her hands, shrugging.

“Traditional, I suppose,” she said. Clyde stuck up her nose.

“That’s bollocks!” she shouted. The people one table over stared at her as Aisha hit her in the head.

“Ow!” the dirty old biddy hissed.

“Don’t be so crass,” Aisha whispered.

“No!” Clyde barked. Before the leader could speak, they heard glasses clinking. Everyone looked up to the center stage. A balding man in a nice suit walked up to the podium.

“Good evening,” he greeted the crowd. Not a single person said a word. The man on stage adjusted his tie.

“Welcome to the fifty-seventh annual summer festival!” he announced. A soft golf clap filled the room.

“It’s so nice to be here!” the man said. “Let us all enjoy the night!” Another soft golf clap filled the room. Clyde yawned aloud. Muriel looked at her glass. It didn’t take for chatter to fill the room. The dirty old biddy looked around.

“Where’s the food?” she asked. Aisha gave her a sharp eye.

“Very have to wait until the carters come out!” she said.

“When ‘hat?”

The leader gritted her teeth. “Can’t you talk properly for once?”

“No!”

While they argued, Lewis looked over at the other table next to theirs. Kat giggled as she flirted with a man her age sitting next to her. The man in question looked like he wanted to run away. Lewis should her head.

I know how you feel, mate, she thought. I wish I could run away too. Another thought crossed her mind at that point. “Muriel, I don’t see Bill or his nieces here tonight.” The other three old biddies looked up and around.

“Come ta ‘hink of it, ya can’t,” Clyde said.

“Yeah, where are they?” Aisha asked. Muriel shrugged her shoulders.

“Out looking at universities, I guess,” she replied.

“Oh, that’s right,” Aisha said. “Liz is eighteen this year, isn’t she?” Muriel gave her an awkward smile.

“I feel that much older,” she mumbled under her breath. They looked up when the kitchen doors opened. The ladies rolled out with trays on the carts. Clyde grinned, clapping her hands together.

“Goodie!” she shouted. “We can eat!” Aisha rolled her eyes.

“Please don’t smile again,” she muttered under her breath. Clyde ignored her as a cart rolled up to their table. One of the caterers looked at her list.

“Who ordered the rabbit with mushroom soup and ice cream?” she asked. Lewis raised her hand.

“Me,” she said. The caterer handed her the tray.

“Cheers,” she said.

“Shepherd’s Pie with bangers and mash?” the caterer asked.

“Me!” Clyde shouted. The caterer handed her the tray and the old biddy snatched it out her hand. Aisha sighed and rolled her eyes, groaning. She’s just embarrassing, she thought. Her eyes moved towards the other two old biddies.

“Why do we keep taking her out in public with us?” the expression on her face asked. Lewis and Muriel shrugged, shaking their heads. The farmer picked up her fork and started eating. The caterer tried to look bubbly despite Clyde grabbing at her.

“Who had the roast duck with bitter greens?” she asked. Aisha raised her hand.

“That would be me,” she said. The woman with the cart served her tray with such grace.

“Thank you,” she said. The caterer picked up the final tray from the cart.

“You had chicken with mash and green?” she asked Muriel. The old biddy nodded her head.

“Yes,” she said. The caterer lady served her the last tray.

“Thanks,” Muriel said. The caterer served them all their cold tea to go with their drinks.

“If you all need anything, feel free to call me or one of the over servers,” she said.

“Okay,” the old biddies said as they began to dig in.

“You have a nice evening,” she said. Clyde waved at her as the caterer turned and pushed her cart over to serve another table. Everybody knows the only reason they even come out to the first day of the summer festival. The people of Brit-Wales just want to eat and go home. That worked out for the old biddies. Clyde looked over Aisha.

“Did ya pay fo meh meal?” she asked. The leader lowered her victim, sighing and rolling her eyes.

“Yes,” she grumbled.

“Cheers!” her dirty friend cheered.

“Whatever,” Aisha mumbled before returning to her meal.

We are the Champions

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