Preference over performance

"Thanks for diner, guys. it was quite nice," he said as he squirmed his way towards the door."And don't worry, I wont tell anyone about your problem."
"What a relief," said an older gentleman,"I thought I was going to have to stop you from leaving. I was only trying to have a friend over for diner, I wasn't trying to become a headline in the New York Times."
"Its alright, I'll just go home and work on my manuscript. Pretend it never happened"
The host wipes the sweat from his forehead."You know, how am I to be absolutely sure that you wont leak any vital information to the press? Whats to stop you from going to the police straight form here? The station is only right down the street."He turns to his wife "This could be a little more complicated then we thought."
"Yes Brian, this old chap could prove to be quite troublesome in the future. Let us have another cup of coffee and think about what three educated people, adults rather, can do in a situation like this.
"I think I'll just be leaving, my father is waiting at my house for me, he might get worried. You know how old men are."
The older man places his hands on his wife's shoulders and gently rubs them in a nervous fashion."I don't think we can let you leave, without taking the proper steps to ensure our secrets safety.
The guest bites his tongue to refrain from emitting the loud chuckle that he could feel stirring in the bottom of his throat."It really isn't that big of a deal, Mr. Walden, it was only a little..."
Mr. Walden throws his hands in the air "stop it right there! Don't say another word. How dare you mock me and my wife by saying it was nothing. If word got out that we lived like that, what do you think could happen?! Sure, it may be nothing to you and your trashy little family, but here, we have standards! I'll be damned if you leave this house before we figure this out! Now sit the hell down!"

The guest straightens his jacket and smiles "Well, thanks, but no thanks..." The guest turns, and very slowly, in the calmest of fashions, walks out the door and over to his car.
Mr. Walden rushes to the door, with Mrs. Walden right on his heels. "Come back here, you bastard! You wont get away with this!"
The guest opens his car door, climbs in, starts it, and drives off. Inside the residence Mr. Walden turns to his wife, "the neighbors..."
Mrs. Walden pouts."What are we to do, honey?"
The guest drives onward "All that over a stain on my salad fork... We didn't even have any salad..."

-Squidney Charleston-