Margery eased down onto one of the chairs at the last unoccupied round table, pressed her lips against the side of the teacup, and sipped. She was instantly distracted by a noise behind her. Someone was sniffing and sniffling, and it went on for quite some time. Then, she heard the loudest snort. Glancing around the café, she saw that nobody else seemed to be bothered by it. Unable to stop herself, she turned around to face the large, soft belly of a man. He wore a rumpled, green-flecked sport jacket over a wrinkled, white, long-sleeved shirt. His white cuffs were longer than the sleeves of the jacket. A dull-coloured tie with a huge knot hung loosely at the base of his throat. Margery noticed that the tie had several lovely gravy stains on it. A magazine rested on one of his crossed legs, which only drew more attention to the fact that the bottoms of his pant-legs barely met up with the tops of his white socks. Obviously, he was a man in his own world—a man of means by no means—and he appeared to be totally wrapped up in himself. Margery glared at him, hoping that he would look at her. Without warning, this peculiar gentleman took the cuff of his right shirt-sleeve and wiped his perpetually running nose with it, catching all the snotty drips that had been hanging precariously off the tip. He dragged his nose across the cuff of his jacket, up his sleeve, and all the way to his elbow. If that wasn’t bad enough, he did this not once, but twice, and seemed to enjoy the second time more than the first.
The sniffing—with the occasional snort thrown in—continued for quite some time. To Margery’s horror, he then slurped four heaping spoonfuls of soup into his mouth, smacking his lips as the broth overflowed from the cracks between them. Margery, having seen enough, turned back around and tried not to show her annoyance.
At last, her sandwich arrived! It was one of those “double-O” egg sandwiches that were so popular on the menu—double-O meaning double the ooze of mayo. Double-O’s would ooze and ooze from every corner of the crusty bread. Margery daintily held her napkin in one hand to catch the drips as she raised the sandwich to her waiting, watering mouth. Just at the exact second the sandwich crossed her lips, the man—the sniffer and snorter—rose from his chair, pushed his squishy tummy around his table, and squeezed past Margery.
Oh, my goodness! He knocked her arm and smushed her double-O egg sandwich smack against her face and mouth. He didn’t stop and didn’t look back—clumsily, he kept on going right out the door, as if nothing had happened. Margery frantically wiped the gooey mess from her cheeks and nose. Then she blew her nose to remove the bits of egg that had lodged up inside her nostrils. A young boy sitting with his friends at a nearby table sat watching, pointing, and laughing. Within seconds, all four of the boys were laughing hysterically, tears running down their cheeks.
Margery felt so humiliated—she couldn’t dash out of the café fast enough! She climbed onto the scooter, patted her long dress down securely over her legs, and took off down the street. Margery was a sight to behold as she zoomed away, one hand steering the scooter and the other clutching her hat.
Margery Mutters thought to herself, The locals didn’t notice that the boy and I looked exactly alike, and they didn’t hear the rude man sniffing, snuffing, and snorting—but they sure noticed the egg on my face!
