Ham, Cheese and Picasso

“Well… well…” There was a brief pause.

“Well?”

“Well!” the security officer said, leaning over the desk so closely that his nostril hairs almost tickled Connor’s face. “I don’t think you realise the kind of trouble you’re in, do you son?” he said, his words laced with false authority and disapproval. The teenage boy sitting opposite simply shrugged and rolled his eyes up to the ceiling. 

The room was small and certainly not intended to be for interrogations. Looking now at what was on the desk in front of him, Connor noticed that beside the pizza, there was an old computer monitor; so old in fact, that he wondered how much coal had to be thrown inside of it to get it started. Next to it, the keyboard was covered with crumbs and dust. Perhaps this was one of the exhibits, Connor thought, and grinned at his own joke. 

“Oh, you think this is funny?” the security guard snorted, retreating quickly, his tie sweeping across the pizza like the finishing stroke of a painter's masterpiece. “You’ll sit right there and wait ‘til the police get here. Then you’re gonna have to pay for what you did.”

“You… err.”

“No don’t even apologise, it’s too la-”

“No, there’s some cheese on your tie,” Connor said, gesturing towards the security officer’s tie. The security officer grimaced as he reached into his pocket for a tissue and began to clean the end of his tie. 

“Just sit there quietly. Alright? Keep that big mouth of yours shut,” he pleaded. Connor mocked the security officer by making muffled sounds with his mouth tightly closed. The security officer sighed and leant back into his chair, still cleaning his tie. The security officer was a man in his late forties, very round and dressed in a smart suit with tufts of blonde hair on his balding head. As he carefully removed the last bits of cheese from his tie, Connor began making even louder sounds with his mouth remaining shut. 

“But I really need to pee,” Connor finally blurted out, rocking side to side. The security officer sighed. “You ain’t going anywhere, until this gets sorted!”

“How do I even know you're a security officer and not some weird pervert, locking me in this room with you?”

“Alright,” he huffed, reaching into his pocket for a second time. “Here’s my bloody ID!” The security officer threw his security badge on the desk so that Connor could clearly read the name: Mr. Richard Dunne, Head of Security.

“That’s beautiful, that. Did your mum make you that badge?” Connor chuckled, leaning in closer to Richard, the scent of the cold Hawaiian pizza wafting into his nose. “Now Dick, listen… May I call you Dick?”

“You may not!”

“Now Dick, I swear it was just a little accident. The damage wasn’t even THAT bad. This is all just an overreaction.” 

“Not that bad? The Weeping Woman looks like she has a bloody nose bleed!” said Richard, clearly getting frustrated.  

“Jesus! That was a woman? Well if anything, I think I improved it a little.” 

Connor seemed pleased with himself and reached out for a slice of the cold pizza in front of them. “Sometimes… I think Pizza is better cold,” he said, changing the subject and nodding as he chewed. “Do you want a slice?”

“No, I don't want a slice!” 

“Alright, suit yourself,” Connor said, finishing the first slice and reaching out for another. “Dick, I think you’re very rude. You've not even given me a chance to explain myself. All you’ve done is treated me, an honest art… looker, badly.” 

“Alright,” Richard said, shuffling his chair closer with his elbows on the table and his hands clasped together. “Tell me what ‘appened.”

Connor paused for a moment to gather his thoughts. He closed his eyes and took a deep breath, sensing that Richard was getting more and more impatient. Connor’s eyes shot open as if a sudden vision had taken over him. “It was a warm summer's morning. I woke up with yesterday’s midnight snack next to me when-” 

Richard hastily stood up, clearly too annoyed to just sit there. “I ain’t got all day. Stop mucking around!” he whined, heaped over the chair, defeated from the last hour of teasing. Connor reached out for another slice of pizza. “Alright, keep your hair on Dick. I can fast forward a little bit I guess.” Connor licked his fingers clean, until there was no trace of pizza left on his hands. “Mum’s always screaming at me brothers so I had to leave the house like I do pretty much everyday. I had a couple of quid in my pocket and was pretty hungry. As I’m walking down the street I remembered that it's Tuesday! And we all know what happens on Tuesday, don’t we, Dick?”

Richard thought for a while. He scratched his chin, mimicking what he thought a detective would do and said “Half price pizzas.”

“Half price pizzas!” Connor repeated, wide eyed as if he was in a trance. “And who couldn’t resist Father Bob’s famous Hawaiian Pizza at half the price. Warm ham and cheese with little bits of pineapple on it to just make all your troubles go away. There’s one slice left, Dick. You can have it.” With a sly grin, Connor pushed the pizza box closer to Richard who by now was imagining the taste of the cold, delicious pizza in his mouth. His taste buds danced with anticipation. He couldn’t resist the urge any longer and eagerly reached for a slice. 

“Once I bought the pizza, I went to my favourite spot in the park to eat it.” Connor continued, a little surprised how quickly Richard had changed his mind about eating the pizza. “And we all know what happens at Nelson Square Park this week, don’t we, Dick?” 

Richard thought for a while. “Actually, no I don't.”

“All the schools are off for the summer and all the kids are at the park. How can I eat my pizza in peace, away from the little rascals? But then a thought occurred to me. What do children hate more than school? Museums.” Connor said, before Richard could object. “Boring, old museums. So I came here to enjoy my pizza in peace.” 

Richard, who was slightly offended by what Connor had said, didn't even realise the crumbs on his fingers as he picked up the empty pizza box, folding it neatly before tossing it into the nearby trash bin. As he did so, a flurry of crumbs cascaded onto the desk in front of him. “I still don’t see how you managed to get tomato sauce on the painting…” Richard said, now more intrigued than angry. 

“I did it for a girl, Dick! I grabbed a slice and launched it towards the painting yelling ‘Watch out, hambush!’ She was smoking hot. Had all that goth thing going, you wouldn’t understand. I thought she would laugh and find it funny, but turns out she’s as boring as this place is,” He leaned back in his chair with folded arms. “So when I turned around feeling pretty proud of myself, who do I see? Your ugly mug right up close to mine.”

“Aha! A confession!” Richard's eyes lit up with triumph. “You said it was an accident, but now you're admitting otherwise. Just wait ‘til I tell the police about this.”

Connor sat calmly in his chair, his posture relaxed and his expression unreadable. His eyes remained fixed on Richard, not revealing any hint of concern or regret. “Well it was an accident. I didn’t mean to ruin the painting. Have you ever thought that she might be weeping because she is hungry?” Connor grinned.

“You might not respect the art, son. And I get it, how could you respect it? A kid your age, barely left school and thinking you’re the big man. But you have to respect the rules and there are consequences for those who break them!”

“Oh, I’ve been a very naughty boy, haven’t I? Are you going to spank me? First you lock me in this room with you and now you’re going to spank me? This is not a good look for you, Dick.” Connor's previously slumped shoulders straightened as he stood up. “And anyway… Where is your proof? While we were sitting here, you and I have been eating the only evidence you have!”

There was a knock at the door and both Connor and Richard who were almost standing nose to nose, turned around.

“Come in,” Richard said, composing himself.

A police officer entered the room with a stern expression on her face, her uniform neatly pressed and her badge shining in the light. Her hair was pulled back in a tight bun.

“We heard reports of a disturbance in the museum. Something about the destruction of a famous art piece?”

With a sudden shift in posture, Richard stood tall and spoke in a voice that was remarkably different from his previous tone. His voice was much more refined than his appearance suggested. “That’s right, this young man threw pizza on our most valuable exhibit! He must be punished!” The police officer looked around the room, noticed the crumbs still on Richard's fingers and on the desk and raised an eyebrow. Richard suddenly blushed when he realised what it might look like to others and hastily brushed away any evidence of crumbs on his fingers. “What pizza?” she said. Connor grinned. “Alright, can I check your security cameras then?” she asked after a long awkward pause. Connor’s grin faded.