Tangled Yarns: Winning by Losing

"Now Mitch, remember to sit up straight!"

"And don't scoop the soup from the front of the bowl!"

"Keep your serviette on your knees."

"Don't pick your nose or scratch your head."

"Leave the cutlery alone until you need it."

"Yes Mum, yes Dad."

I hated this restaurant! So did Mitch. We both thought it was weird place, where we had to act like we'd just arrived on another planet, and we had to behave like the aliens because if we didn't they'd eat us. We had to wear shirts with stiff collars, and silly ties, and jackets with all the buttons done up, and shiny leather shoes, and trousers with specially ironed seams down the sides. We felt uncomfortable, like we were on a stage in front of a bunch of policemen, with every one of them watching us. Criminals in the spotlight.

The manager was there to guide us to our table, and a line of waiters and waitresses stood along one wall, ready to serve us. The supermarket boss was there too, and the newspaper reporter, and cameras, and a crowd of people, and some judges with their notebooks. It was going to be quite grim, having good manners.

Mitch sat at his table and I sat at mine. The cutlery gleamed. The small oil-light candle burned on its stalk. The carnations were perfect in their two slender, glass vases. The tablecloth was pure white and I thought it looked silly. I would have preferred fish and chips on a sheet of old newspaper and a saggy couch.

The manager of the restaurant gave a little speech and everyone clapped, then the boss of the supermarket said a few words and declared the competition started. The first meal arrived.

When I saw it coming I thougth, uh-oh, this was going to be tricky. Mitch must have had better lessons because he picked up the right spoon for the job without hesitating. I thought I'd copied him but I lifted a fork. Oops. That cost me points. Mitch and I spooned the watery soup into our mouths very slowly. Neither of us dripped or dabbled a bit of it. I wanted to heap two slices of bread into the bowl like I always did, but no. I controlled myself.

The waitress took our bowls away. Mitch and I waited. We weren't allowed to fidget. We were like robots.

The second course finally arrived, and man we were