Throw Him Away and Get a New One

Angus surreptitiously slipped a few items of food into his jacket pocket. Then he built himself a sandwich with several layers of ham and cheese. He was halfway through demolishing it when a voice said, “Mind if I join you?”

It was his room mate sporting a plate even more crammed with food than Angus’s had been. He sat down, picked up a slice of processed chicken and crammed it in his mouth. “Hmm, delicious” he said. “Name’s Bunbury, by the way. Felix Bunbury.”

“Angus Highsmith,” said Angus in a tone he hoped conveyed he was interested in neither company nor conversation.

“It only occurred to me a few minutes ago that you must be one of us.”

“Us?”

“The Dispossessed. Your suit’s a dead give away. I mean you and I aren’t typical hostel fodder, are we? There was another chap here the first night I stayed. Name of Miller.” Bunbury threw a slice of cheese onto a slice of bread, rolled it up and took a huge mouthful. He chewed six times before washing the food down with a slurp of tea. “He used to own a used car business. Did very well for himself. So well he was thinking of selling up and retiring to Spain. And then – well you can guess the rest. He came down one morning and there was a stranger at his table.”





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