(part of a collection of meaningless short stories)

All the wars. All the fights. The Cack Bar was the one place in the world where those things seemed to pass without effect. Except the food fights. With my pinky up my nostril, I kicked down the rotting and termite-eaten shutters which had been placed in the doorway, as a substitute for the front door someone famously ate over the course of the 1970s. Inside, nothing had changed. Everything was in it's old place. Even my half eaten bread sandwich that I'd refused to pick up off the floor, as a stubborn ten year old. Bert the Burp was sat behind the counter, as usual, with his back to the customers, flicking through the same 'learn Hawaiian in 24 hours or be an idiot' book he'd been reading the last few decades. It was common Bar knowledge that Bert couldn't read,and was probably looking at all the grainy, black and white pictures of scantily dressed Hawaiian dancers. The only form of greeting a customer would get from Bert was a slight tilting back of the head. This made the badly drawn pixie face tattooed on the back of his bald dome appear to nod. "A bowl of nuts please, Bert." It was the only thing on offer, but you still had to order it, or Bert would simply emit a loud, juicy burp, and flick back to 'Chapter 1: Greetings And Introductions For When Dealing With Disabled Horses'. Back in the day, Dr. Icinotitz the then manager had managed to strike a deal with Saddam, where he would send Saddam as many buns as he needed to complete his plan of decoy hamburger bombs. In return the Bar would receive an endless supply of the one thing Iraq was famous for : body parts. Specifically, beautifully formed, hand-crafted chocolate monkey nuts. It is rumoured that, amongst every one hundred monkey nuts packaged, there is a pair which is actual, hairy, severed monkey's nuts, concealed by a thin layer of chocolate. Dr. Icinotitz simply mailed Saddam a pack of tesco value for money scones, instead of 1034 burger buns, but strangely the nuts came in as promised, by the mule-drawn-cart-loads, and still do. It has been theorised by Pot Belly Pete, the Bar's political pundit, who used to run a soup bar for Boris' anger management councilors, that the supplies continue as a sign of gratitude from the 'Allies', as it became immediately clear, after the fall of Bagdad, that The Cack Bar had played a fundamental role in foiling Saddam's evil plans.