“Please stop staring at that man.”

Devin looked up at his mother and rolled his eyes in the way only a freshly admonished five-year-old can.

“But mom, he keeps making pig noises,” the kid protested.

“I don’t care. It’s not polite.”

Devin slumped back in his chair. Lunch at McDonald’s had been his request, a treat for a week of meeting all of his responsibilities on The Good Boy Chart. The chart had been in use for a few months now, tracking what seemed to him to be his every deed, good and bad, ultimately culminating in a weekly score that usually left him empty handed.

But the good weeks were worth buying in to the system. Doing the dishes a few nights or not pouting when mom tells him to turn off the TV and go to bed, those little deeds could lead to the sweet embrace of a cheeseburger and fries.

But even with parts of his hard-won bounty still uneaten in front of him, Devin could not help but be distracted by the man at the table behind them, directly over his mother’s shoulder. His black track suit with a sharp grey stripe across the chest screamed a weekend of luxurious not giving a damn. The newspaper in front of him suggested a worldliness the adjacent Big Mac did not.

The sound of the man’s quick inhaling made Devin’s eyes flash to the man again. He couldn’t help it. The dude sounded like a real life 400 pound muddy pig!

“Devin! Cut it out. Eat the rest of your burger.”

He sucked in a mini snort carrying only one-tenth the power of the track suit man. Mom’s glare brought only a giggle. First from Devin, then from her.

“Stop it…I shouldn’t laugh.”

Devin leaned in with a mischievous whisper, “You should do it too, mom. It’s fun.”

She did, but not voluntarily. The sound escaped before the hand rushing to her mouth could catch it.
A quick look up from the track suit man sent a quick shiver into Devin, who feared they had been caught. But the track suit man apparently had not heard, or maybe he didn’t care. He returned to his paper, letting out his own record-loud snort that seemed to say, “I AM THE ALPHA SNORTER IN THIS RESTAURANT!”

Devin saw his mom’s shoulders convulse in only the way the suppression of massive, full-body laughter can do. Her eyes began to water too, as the laughter looked for any possible way out. The silliness of the situation had overtaken her. Devin saw his opening.

“Hey mom, what sound does a cow make?”

“MOO,” came her response, far louder than she intended. Devin’s eyes were beaming as he pressed on.

“Hey mom, what sound does a horse make?”

“Neigh,” came the barely audible whisper of a woman laughing so hard inside she could barely speak. Devin spread himself halfway across the table, ready to cash in on the moment.

“Hey mom…”

She waved her hands at him, trying to get him to stop. She hadn’t taken a deep breath in more than a minute.

“Hey mom, what sound does a PIG make?”

The tears streamed out of his mom’s eyes as she held her stomach and reached out to hold his hand.
SNORT came the answer from behind them.

Devin, now joining his mom in absolute, full-on laughter town, looked up to see the track suit man with a wide smile spread across his face. A conspiratorial wink followed. Devin tried to wink back, sending the track suit man the friendly signal of a five-year-old awkwardly blinking both eyes at once, wondering if he was doing it right.