“Your orders, sir?” the large guard asked, raising his hand and looking back over his shoulder.
Sitting with two more guards opposite him was a man in a large blue suit, stretched to its limit over his belly, with one button ready to explode like a bullet at any moment. The man’s hair was balding, combed back in a futile attempt to cover it up.
“Those brats!” Sir Ken shouted. “I’m the mayor of Clusterfield, and I’m about to have a meeting soon. Their fighting knocked the coffee over my trousers. Are they going to pay for a new pair of trousers? These people weren’t even meant to be in this cabin in the first place! People like them never learn because it’s ingrained by their parents, these uneducated scum. You can’t just punish them; you have to punish the root of the problem. Bring their parents and deal with the two brats so they can’t say a word.”
One of the guards stood up and immediately went through the cabin door, presumably to search for the parents.