Children Of Think The Someone
I wander into the newsagents and pick up a pint of milk and a chocolate bar. Something on the floor-to-ceiling magazine rack catches my eye, so I wander over.
As I reach to pick up PC Gamer magazine, a huge man in a black suit appears and smacks my hand away.
"Ow. What the fuck?" I stammer.
"You over 18?" He growls. I look up and see myself reflected in his wraparound sunglasses.
"What?"
"Are. You. Over. Eighteen?" He enunciates.
"What's it to you?" I reply, reaching for PC Gamer magazine.
He smacks my hand away again.
"OW! What the actual fuck?" I shout
"You over eighteen? You have to be over eighteen to read that." He says in a bored manner.
I reach for Thomas the Tank Engine Monthy and he doesn't move. I try and grab for PC Gamer but he's too fast. Again with the hand slap.
"Fucking hell, do I look under eighteen to you?" I wave angrily at my white beard and greying hair. "I just want to look at this PC mag."
"Prove it." He says. "Prove you're over 18."
"Look at my grey beard and my grey hair and my wrinkly face! I am over eighteen. Obviously."
"Nah. I need documentary proof." He replies.
"Like what?" I ask
"Photo ID, preferably. Passport. Driving Licence. Bus pass."
"What, to read PC fucking Gamer? I need a fucking passport to read PC Gamer magazine? What the fuck, dude."
"It's the law" he replies. "Photographic ID. Preferably biometric."
Exasperated, I reach for the driving licence in my wallet and go to show it to him.
He shakes his head. "Nope. I don't need to see it. You need to show it to the guys in that van outside" he gestures through the window to a rusty Transit van that's parked half on the kerb.
I put the milk and chocolate bar back and leave the shop. The Transit van is about 20 years old, its doors edged with rust. On the side the words "Dave's Age Vefication" have been sprayed on with a can of pink paint.
I tap on the passenger window, which rolls down to reveal someone wearing a balaclava and sunglasses. "You want age verification?" He shouts in an indeterminate accent. "Give photo id please!" he gestures with a thumb to the side door which slides open with a rusty creak.
Inside the van is another person wearing a balaclava and sunglasses. They sit next to a table that contains a laptop, a scanner, a printer and a laminator. The person holds their hand out for my driving licence.
"What's the printer and laminator for?" I ask.
"Is for print and laminate" the person replies, gesturing with their fingers for my ID.
"To print and laminate what?" I ask.
"Mind your business." They reply.
"Nah man, I'm out. This looks like some kind of identity theft setup" I shake my head and return to the shop for my milk and chocolate.
I pass through some woods on my way home and, through a gap in the foliage, catch a glimpse of a young teenage lad furiously masturbating to a porn mag he'd found in a bush.