Big Happy Family Meal

Wilson and Sophia suffered through a traumatic experience. Seeing their parents kissing and going even further than that, after they did the same thing, was somehow horror-movie-like in their heads.

Wilson was driving a little fast in his Bentley, almost crashing him and Sophia.

"Slow down there, cowboy, ja. We don't want to see the devil yet."

"What devil?"

"You're going to hell as well as I am. Stop being naive."

"I don't even believe in concepts like..."

Sophia rolled her eyes. "Shut up."

Wilson slowed down. "Suit yourself then. You know, Soph..."

Sophia slapped Wilson, which almost made them crash. "Don't call me Soph, please."

"Ouch. 'Please' would be nice. Don't hit me."

"Sorry, I overreacted. Just what is going on, dude? I am spending more and more time with you. What is this? Why are you driving me somewhere?"

"I thought you wanted for us to do it again."

"Are you a moron? How can you think about stuff like that in these hard times?"

Wilson saddened a little bit and made puppy eyes. He was unsure where to drive to or what speed to drive at. If he slowed down, Sophia would tell him to speed up. If he would speed up, she would tell him to slow down.

He nervously started. "You know, traumatizing or scary things that couples go through makes their bond stronger. That is why sometimes watching like a horror movie bonds people."

Sophia grabbed her head and then put her palm on her forehead. Am I having a fever? This must be a fever dream. "You said so many stupid and insane things in one second I can't believe it. Who says we are a couple? Who bonds over horror movies? I don't even like them."

"I see you are nervous."

"Listen, Wilson darling, if you ever tell me that I am nervous again, I promise you, you will see nervous clear, ja?"

"Huh?"

"Oh my god, bruv, just take me home."

"Yes, sir."

"Don't call me sir, ha ha ha." Sophia started laughing from all the nagging she had been doing. "I am terrible, aren't I?"

"Yeah, a little bit," Wilson said, and a little smile was on his face.

Next day, Ludwig was home. He was making coffee for him and Sophia. They were talking, laughing like nothing had happened. Ludwig made this fancy coffee with egg yolk.

Sophia was talking with her dad about usual stuff cakes, sports, and news in Germany. She was a little bit scared about what she knew, and she was scared to bring it up. She decided to forget about it and push it down deep inside, hide it under the rug, because that is the way that emotions should be dealt with. She was looking at her dad and felt like he was a different person.

"Dad?"

"Yes, Soph?"

"Could you make us some of your famous cheeseburgers?"

"Ja, of course."

In the classified base, Mark, the child of Balkan immigrants, was working on a highly classified case, uncovering many trafficking rumors and suspicious activities. He, with Smith, had gathered a lot of evidence on this people-trafficking ring.

Mark, unlike Clair, didn't understand how Mr. Smith had enough time to do so much work. Mark was uninterested in work and would leave the moment he could. "It is not that I don't care about victims, sir, but I have family. I have lunch to help with. I have chores. Dishes await."

Smith would always stay late, always be hustling.

Mark was 27, much younger than Smith, and for his age he was sometimes too naive, but also his youth spirit helped with ambition. He and Smith were both ambitious. That is what helped them move up in careers and have the trust of the bosses.

Mark arrived home. His wife apologized for not making anything for lunch. He said, "No problem, we will do it together." Mark proceeded to make lunch alone. He cut vegetables, some meat, and mixed it all with some pasta.

He and his family were enjoying a nice lunch. After that, even before his wife finished lunch, he started washing the dishes. Dishes were the pain of his existence, but they didn't have space for a dishwashing machine.

Clair wrote him a message:

Is Smith ok?

To which Mark replied: OK.

Mark started his PlayStation 4, and then his wife entered the room. He was looking at her. His mind and body were starting to get anxious.

His wife, Betty, smiled gently and asked nicely, "How long will you play for?"

Mark replied, "I don't know. I didn't plan it."

"Just give me some number. Around what, 5 minutes? 5 hours?"

Mark thought for a second. "Do you want us to do something together?"

"Yes, I would love that, but I don't want you to not enjoy your hobby."

"Ahh, don't be sorry. I didn't want to play it anyway."

This routine would happen day after day, and then again.

Mark was in the car, just in ambush, expecting this suspicious dude to approach some girl on the street. He was focused on him with his eyes, but his brain was thinking about video games. When I finish work, I could play for like 3 hours maybe today. Or like after I finish lunch and everything, I spend a little time with my family and then I could play. He was obsessing over everything. He was a weird bloke, as Mr. Smith would call him.

Smith joined him and brought 4 double cheeseburgers.

"Ahh, now this looks like proper secret agent work."

"You know, Clair wrote me to check if you are ok."

Smith sighed. "I am fine."

"I know, sir. I know."

Smith started eating a cheeseburger and, with his mouth full, asked hardly understandably, "How's your family, Mark?"

"They are amazing, sir. My wife, my kids they are just rays of sunshine in my life. They make me so happy, you know."

"I see." Smith took another bite and continued to talk, mouth full. "And your father?"

Mark paused, looked at his cheeseburger, and took a bite as well. Then, same as Smith, said, "He is an alcoholic, dumb, irresponsible, lying, stealing son of a gun."

"So same as always."

"Yes, sir."

"Listen, Mark, one day you will receive a call, or someone will come to you and tell you, 'Your dad passed away.' That day you will be sad. I know it. So for now, just try to endure it."

"I doubt that I will be sad, but thanks for the advice."

From the house they were spying on, someone exited.

Smith and Mark both sighed.

"We got the wrong guy, didn't we? We must have made a mistake."

"No, sir. Sadly, that is our guy. That is the right guy. The biggest scum there is."

"But he is wearing a church robe."

"Sir, he could be wearing the robe of a Pope, but he is the guy."

"Ok, let's go, Son."