19Vince walked into his small kitchen, arms full of supermarket bags. There was nowhere to store his groceries, so he parked some on top of the fridge and the rest on the floor. Lydia was sending the girls with a packed dinner for the trip, so that was one less thing to worry about. He looked at his watch: half an hour to go before the train.
He bombed a frozen meat lover’s pizza in the microwave, filled up the perpetually hungry Deefer’s bowl, then sat back, ate his dinner, washed it down with a Coke, and emitted a large fart.
‘S’pose I’ll have to lift my game when the girls are here, Deef,’ he informed the sleeping dog. ‘No flatulence, eh?’
Vince showered and put on a clean shirt before firing up Benny and heading off. It was a lovely autumn evening, a slight chill in the air. He woun
