Pteranodon Mall Read Free

skulked off to their respective shops; it took them long enough. Another few minutes, and Desmond Lampton would have been forced to put his foot down and use his authority.
    Not that Desmond had any real power. He would have just stood beside their table, tapping on his sweeping brush, until they took the bloody hint and buggered off. The good-for-nothing, bone-idle brats. They wouldn’t know real work if it smacked them all in the chops.
    He reached their table, wondering if he should have done that anyway. That chick who worked in the nail-bar was hot. He’d give his left eye to spend some quality time in the sack with that prize piece of arse. Desmond might have to make a few more discreet inquiries about that one, to see if he could find out where she lived.
    The gobby kid, who worked with that shifty-looking bastard in the discount store, had left a chicken drumstick. Desmond casually dropped that into his special bag before cleaning away the rest of the crap that the messy little bastards had left.
    It shouldn’t be allowed. That’s all he had to say on the matter. They sloped in here with their noise, unsightly hair, and general shitty behaviour, and left their crap all over his spotless table. All without giving a toss about it. It would be poor Desmond here who’d get in trouble if the shift manager paid the eatery a surprise inspection.
    Desmond gave the table a swift wipe before removing himself from the eatery. He didn’t like it here. There were too many kids around, and they were the ones who served the food. It was time to make a quick exit before even more of the pint-sized fuckers streamed through that door. Desmond absolutely detested Saturday morning in the Hopeview Shopping Mall.
    He made his way along the main concourse, pushing his cleaning trolley ahead of him. The rear wheel on his left squeaked. This told him that his mate, Henry Wild, had switched trolleys again, the shithead. Desmond grinned. He didn’t blame the old bastard. After all, he’d switched them in the first place last week.
    There were still a few more minutes before opening time, so it gave him just enough time to slow down and stop right outside the beauty shop’s front window, hoping to catch a glimpse of the hot chick again.
    He couldn’t see her. Bloody hell, what a disappointment. Desmond pressed his face against the glass, wondering where she was. He almost jumped out of his skin at the sound of someone banging on the window. It didn’t come from this shop, though. He stood back to discover that blond twerp from the toy shop scowling at him. The twerp stood there, amongst a display of Legos, giving Desmond daggers.
    He grabbed the handles of his trolley, stared at the black and white tiles, and pushed his trolley past both shops while grinding his teeth. If it wasn’t for the fact that without this crappy job, where he’d probably end up sleeping rough again, he would have marched right in there and punch that clown right in the chops.
    “None of these kids have any respect for me,” he muttered.
    Henry always told him to lighten up whenever Desmond got like this, reminding him that they were exactly the same at their age. He’d flash those stumpy teeth, blast out that rotting-meat breath, and call him a miserable old bastard.
    He reached the new car display and turned left, heading towards the restroom area. Maybe Henry did have a point. He did admit that recently the tolerance for these kids had reached an all-time low. Thing is, he just couldn’t help himself. Just being close to anyone under the age of twenty-five made him want to either hit them or, if they were pretty, take them to bed. The chances of doing either were slim to none, not if wanted to keep this shit job or wanted to go to prison.
    Desmond stopped by the restroom corridor. He waited for some older man wearing a Martin’s Department Store uniform to pass him before opening his special bag. Along with the chicken, he had also collected a slice of