Moey Gerges (31) isn’t one for trying new things, but today he was overcome by a very affective marketing campaign at a local small business.

The Betoota Ponds based chippy says he really wishes there was a decent carvery nearby, but given the fact that he’s working in the centre of the town’s rapidly gentrifying Flight Path District, he has to settle for a trendy cafe.

Today’s lunch spot was “BLUE BALLS” an artisan breakfast house, on the corner of Kythera and Saigon streets in the once crime-riddled multicultural enclave.

As the local union delegate of an enormous construction project in this part of town, Moey tries his very best to not look anything like these trendy inner-city bosses he goes to war with every day.

But the green juice just looked too damn good. Especially after the weekend he’s had.

“Yeah love ahhhh just a B&E roll. Yeah whats aoli?” he asks the waitress, while trying his hardest to look unfamiliar with the menu items in front of his workmates.

“Oh yeah so it’s like mayo. Yeah bung that on it if ya could”

The waitress goes along with Moey playing dumb with his hardly uncommon smoko order.

“Anything to drink?” she asks.

Moey drops his volume a little bit.

Usually one to order an extra large cap with three sugars, or a ‘expresso’ when he’s short on time, the big fella is eyeing off this bright green health juice.

“yeahmmmm just thatmmm green thing” he murmurs, just quiet enough for the others to not hear.

“Sorry what?!” she asks.

“Just the green juice!!!” he whispers, with a hint of venom.

The order goes through, and Moey brings the volume back up.


He’s gotten through the easy bit, the boys didn’t hear his order.

But Moey knows he’s gonna have to face the music in about 15 minutes with this Kale-Spinach-Lemon-Apple concoction gets placed in front of him.

That moment comes a lot sooner than he expected, as the juicer begins to fire up before he’s even left the store.

Already deeply regretting his attempts to expand his horizons on smoko, Moey is now terrified of the smart arse cracks that are about to come his way.

And to make matters worse, the juice arrives in a recycled mason jar.

“WHAT’S GOING ON HERE MATE!?” asks Junior, his 160 kilogram workmate, who ordered a big breakfast with a coca-cola he bought from the newsagent next door.

Moey tries his best to argue that this green shit good for ya, but he knows that is never a good enough excuse.

“Looks a bit how ya going if you ask me” says Pete, another smart arse coworker.

“Everything alright at home mate?”

Moey is visibly enraged that his insecurities about wanting to try nice things have been highlighted and exploited me his colleagues.

Junior makes another crack.

“Mate if I didn’t know ya, I would think you were from the French Quarter!!”

“Bonjour, bonjour!” he says, to a roaring eruption of laughter from everyone within earshot.

Moey snaps.

“Go and fuck yourself you stupid bogan fucks!!” he spits, only sound even more like one of those inner city types.

The laughter continues, and Moey goes quiet.

He then opens up his phone, where he finds solace in his six different betting apps, until it’s time to go back to work.



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