Friends With Benefits

Posted: May 9, 2015 in As If I Actually Ended Up Going To Uni

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It is afternoon, and I have just woken up. I have a night shift tonight, only I haven’t left much time. Not for all the little things I need to do before I go.

Like sorting out dinner for me and Beauty.

Beauty’s great. I’ve bought her Birmingham food and chip shop chips and she’s snogged me both times. Definitely a keeper. Though I’ve not tried her on the wings. I can get away with anything for dinner! I can resort to true student desperation!

A student trick.

Up my student sleeve. My hole-less sleeve! I’m so ace. I smile, and decide to buy them.

Two subways.

 

And to only pay for one. I cackle, and step out into the Wolverhampton air that brushes my fringe gently and cools my ego down. I am hot. And feel hot. Because there is so little time. Subway will save the day! A whole supermarket full of food! I smile, as I see the green and yellow letters that insinuate unfounded healthiness. I push the door open, and see an unexpected sight.

Polish.

Polish I have seen before. Polish that I knew for a year at the start of uni. Damian. The man with the big knees and glasses from way back when I was trying to chat up that girl that liked dancing and also, as it turned out, supermarkets of drugs.

I smile at Damian as he takes some money from some guy in a queue. He has been a university regular in my life. I met him in my first freshers’ week. Danced with him in that dank club that was free on Thursdays. Walked a girl home with him. Chatted as men do, and told him all about my crush on Drugs McGee. He was cool. A complete collection. Still in the boxes. I like Damian.

And here he is working in Subway.

What a score!

This is ace! I’ve had Subway-powered friends before. And I’ve had cheeky friendly bonuses! Friendly boni. And now it’s time for another cheeky little boney.

I smile.

“Damian!”

“Hello!”

Damian smiles. I haven’t seen him for a little while. Not since his halloween party. When I supplied emergency guests to help him out. I brought a Ghanaian-Russian lumberjack, a Nigerian wasp and a Kentish scientist. As well as a white wizard. I made that party. He must love me. I even chatted up the fit single polish girl there that he invited specifically. He owes me! And now here he is. With access to many, many meatballs. I smile, and give him my order, before asking him how he is.

“Good. Working here now. Two years.”

I am surprised. But don’t really care that I’m surprised. Which is unsurprising. It has been two years. Two Canada-filled, F-Zero X-ing years. And I’ve not thought about Damian. I’ve lost contact with the wasp, and the lumberjack has left the continent. I don’t really care about Damian that much any more. But it’s OK. We’re friends still.

Facebook friends.

He owes me supermarkets of meatballs.

I slip my BOGOF voucher onto the table and he picks it up. I pull out my three pounds to buy one.

Damian says a number.

The wrong number.

“No! Damian! Look, the voucher says buy a 6 inch and a drink, and get one free. And look above you, there’s a big sign saying ‘£3 – a 6 inch and a drink’.’

Damian stops smiling.

“No. Price of 6 inch add price of drink equals over four pounds.”

I stop smiling.

“No, no. Not 6 inch add drink. 6 inch including drink.”

“No.”

I stare at him.

“No! This voucher is specifically for this franchise! It’s the most specific you can get! And the deal is written all over the walls!”

Damian stares at me.

And holds his hands out.

I glare. And hand him over four pounds.

I run home, and click onto Facebook, and find Damian. My Facebook friend.

I delete him.

And wonder how he likes those meatballs.

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