soylent green is goobers

 

A well dressed woman of mature years queueing at the counter is negotiating a tricky border crossing into the interior of the cafe.

Naturally, given we're living in a Nazi State, the counter server asks for her passport if she wishes to sit in the cafe.

That's the way things are now.

"Do you have your vaccine passport?"

"Oh. I left my phone at home. But I've had the vaccine. Perhaps you could allow me to sit inside anyway. We won't be staying long, myself and my husband."

The noble Heelers is queueing behind her.

I eat at this cafe sometimes because there are outdoor tables for whose usage no passport is demanded.

I also occasionally enjoy sauntering into the cafe's interior and sitting down until the staff remove me for failure to show a passport,

We owe it to ourselves to live a little.

The counter server summons the manager.

The manager says to the lady : "I'm sorry. There's nothing I can do. You can eat outside if you like."

I intervene.

I say: "Arrah let her eat in the cafe."

The manager is adamant. (The real Adam Ant had a few catchy hits in the 1980s. He would have let her in.)

The lady says she will take her food to go, meaning she'll take it away with her.

I whisper to her: "Join the revolution."

She draws back in distaste.

"Oh I believe in vaccines," she tells me primly.

"Then I can't help you," I say.