At the cafe was a table of five late teens. Two boys on one side of the table and two girls on the other. The boys had fashionable haircuts and skinny jeans. The girls had loose summery t-shirts over tighter boob tubes which is the fashion of the day. The fifth member was another male who sat at the head of the table. King on his throne of shit, he was rotund and ginger, check shirt, baggy jeans and last year's haircut.

The other four sat largely in silence while King dominated with talk he considered sophisticated beyond his years. On the internet he asks why these girls always go with those guys and not someone like him... smart, intelligent who would treat his girl like a queen. He works on his personality, hones it, bes what he thinks he should be.

That night he will watch the girls get hit on by what he considers losers while the guys will go home with girls he considers sluts. King will go home to his kingdom with a kebab, secretly wishing he was a loser, secretly wishing for a slut.