“Back again to torment me, are you? Look at him, the little lordling! Fancies himself a proper gent, eating fifty grams at a time!” bellowed the shopkeeper.
The boy lifted a ginger kitten, bright as a sunset. Instead of cowering at the fierce face before it, the kitten squirmed free, leapt onto the counter, scampered across, and pressed itself against Auntie Marges grubby apron, rubbing its tiny orange head against her.
Now, Auntie Marge was… well, you know those women who look like theyve been carved out of granite? Face like a bulldog chewing a wasp. No one ever dared meet her eyesnot unless they fancied a glare that could curdle milk. It always said the same thing: *”Why must I serve these absolute nuisances?”*
Auntie Marge was a shop assistant. Not just in professionoh no, in spirit. She served customers with her meaty fists planted firmly where her waist shouldve been, drilling holes into anyone daft enough to argue. Even the burliest blokes would wilt, muttering their orders like schoolboys caught nicking sweets.
But the boy? Ten years old and cheekier than a monkey with a key to the biscuit tin. Every blooming day, hed plonk his coppers on the counter and chirp, *”Auntie Marge, could I have fifty grams of sausage, please?”*
Shed turn puce, then pale, then greyall at once. *”Him again!”* shed thunder, rattling the windows. *”Fifty grams, like hes dining at the Ritz!”* The queue would freeze, too terrified to breathe.
Yet the boy never flinched. Hed blink up at her with big blue eyes and repeat, *”Please, Auntie Marge. Its important.”*
And somehowmiraculouslyshed huff, snatch the sausage, and slice him a piece. The queue would exhale, and off hed trot, clutching his prize.
But today, Auntie Marge was in rare form. The air was thick with tension. Thenjust as she launched into a tirade about “modern manners”a tousled head popped up from behind the counter.
*”Auntie Marge,”* the boy whispered, *”Ive no money today. But I really need it. Could I owe you?”*
Silence. The *audacity*.
Auntie Marge turned purple. A roar erupted from herlike a lion whod sat on a wasp. The entire shop ducked. A bloke hiding a bottle of gin in his trousers dropped it, sending glass flying. No one cared.
*”YOU LITTLE TOERAG!”* she bellowed, raising a fist like a ham hock.
Everyone squeezed their eyes shut. Hearts pounded.
But the boy didnt flinch. *”Hes hungry,”* he said calmly, lifting the ginger kitten. *”Mum forgot my lunch money.”*
The kittenbafflingly unafraidwriggled free, leapt onto the counter, and headbutted Auntie Marges apron.
A collective gasp. Surely that fist would *crush* it
Instead, Auntie Marge turned ashen. She scooped the kitten up, holding it nose-to-nose. It mewed and nuzzled her.
*”So *this* is where your lunch moneys been going?”* she growled. *”Feeding this freeloader?”*
The boy nodded. *”But Ill pay you back! Promise.”*
The sweet counter lady burst into tears and thrust a fiver at him.
*”DONT YOU DARE!”* Auntie Marge boomed. The glass rattled again. The gin smuggler whimpered.
She shoved the money back, then*miraculously*sliced not just milk sausage, but a whole ring of posh smoked stuff too. *”Thats for your mum,”* she muttered.
The queue gaped. The sweet lady fumbled her cash. The gin bloke slunk out.
*”And this cheeky mog,”* Auntie Marge added, *”stays with me. Need a mouser in the stockroom.”*
The queue *smiled*. So did the other shop girls.
The ginger kitten purred like a contented tractor. Auntie Marge vanished into the back with it, then reappeared, scowling. *”Next!”*
Strangely, customers started grinning at her. She even*could it?*almost *smiled* back.
Now, the shop has two cats: one ginger, one grey. The blue-eyed “lord” brought in another stray. The staff spoil them rotten, but the cats? They adore Auntie Marge, tripping her up as she grumbles, swears, and *absolutely* doesnt stroke them.
And the queue?
The queue *smiles*.
So there you have itthe tale of a cheeky lad, a ginger sunbeam, some sausage, and a shopkeeper with fists like hams, a glare like thunder… and a heart softer than a fresh bap.
What d’you reckon? Drop your thoughts below!
