Bitch took my seat.

Oh, what's that I hear? Someone in the lunch room? I suppose it's time for lunch.

It's that boy from upstairs - he seems to be microwaving something. While he's doing that, I'd best get out of his way. I only have a sandwich and I wouldn't want to stand in his way while he moves around the lunch room!


Where to sit, though? Well, the seats at the end of the table seem to be covered in newspaper and I don't feel like cleaning off a place. That leaves the spot with all that boy's stuff and the spot that's free.

I don't suppose he'll mind too much if I start having lunch at a spot he's already set his reading material, his utensils, and his drink. He won't mind moving them to the free spot at all! See? He's already started moving them to the free spot.

Mmmmm - his food smells delicious. I should probably tell him about what kind of food my grandson likes to eat. I'm sure he doesn't mind listening - it doesn't look like he's reading that paper. Oh, I forgot to tell him for the ninetieth time what my grandson does for a living. Oh, and how my grandson has a better job in New York City. I'm sure that'll improve his lunch.

Well, the boy from upstairs seems to have eaten rather quickly. I guess that's a boy's appetite for you!