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Drabble: A Little Pink

Genre: slice of life

 

“Does it look a little pink to you?”

“Looks perfectly fine to me.”

“Then you eat it.”

“No way! I mean… she made it for you. You eat it.”

“You can have it.”

“I don’t want to die.”

A third voice cut in. “What’s wrong?”

They looked at the chef.

“N… nothing’s wrong.”

“Is it because there’s only one? I’ll fix that.”

She cut the steak in half with one slice.

“Problem solved.” She sent them a deadly smile. “Anything else?”

Fearing for their lives, they frantically dug into the practically raw meat.

~End~

Drabble: Triple Dose of Moping

My response to the prompt mope.

Genre: slice of life, general, family

 

~Triple Dose of Moping~

Her son moped in the corner of the sofa, her daughter moped at the foot of the stairs, her husband moped at the table.

She was only gone for two days. What happened?

All three gave the same response.

“We dropped your macaroons.”

“I’ll make another batch. Help me and it’ll be done sooner.”

They jumped to their feet and rushed into the kitchen.

It was only macaroons, but if it made them happy, she could put off her rest a for bit.

~End~

Drabble: Radical Food

My response to the prompt ‘radical‘.

Genre: general

 

~Radical Food~

The restaurant they were in, though hidden in between two factories, was packed full of people. Some even had to wait in line for almost half an hour before getting a seat.

Why the popularity?

The answer was in their one-of-a-kind menu, which presented patrons with choices like inside-out sandwich, meatball smoothie, and roast beef ice-cream.

His friend called it ‘radical food’, he thought it was just a gimmick. At the end of the day, food was food, no matter how ‘radical’ it looked.

“Ready to order?” the waitress asked.

His friend ordered salted chocolate lamb with a side of grape chips. He got the chicken in stuffing and potato thickshake.

“This better be good,” he said.

“Don’t worry. I tested every single recipe before putting it on the menu. Everything’s awesome,” his friend said.

“Such confidence.”

“You know me. Everything I make tastes great. Don’t pretend it tastes bad just so you can win the bet.”

“It’s only ten dollars.”

“Ten dollars was big back in college.”

“We’re not in college anymore. But if it helps.” He placed the ten dollar bill on the table. “There it is.”

His friend pocketed the money.

“Hey. You haven’t won yet,” he reminded his friend.

“Don’t worry. I will.”

And his friend did. He, on the other hand, craved for potato thickshakes for weeks.

~End~

Drabble: The Brown Thing in the Kitchen

My response to the prompt ‘plop‘.

Genre: slice of life

 

~The Brown Thing in the Kitchen~

There was a brown thing in the kitchen. It looked like wet poop, but it was in a bowl on the kitchen table, so it was probably edible.

She prodded the thing with a spoon. The thing wobbled. Maybe it was just a very ugly, wet jelly.

Poke. Poke. Wobble.

“What are you doing?”

She jumped. The spoon sheared the top of the brown thing off. The tip slipped off the spoon and fell with a plop into the half-filled mixing bowl in the sink.

A strangled cry jumped out of her throat.

“What’s wrong?” her mother asked.

“What’s this?” she pointed at the thing with her spoon.

“Your brother left it for you. I don’t know what he was trying to make, but it tastes better than it looks.”

Oh. That was good news. She dug into the thing and took a bite. The texture was weird, but it was tasty. She demolished the rest of the brown thing in a few bites.

She looked at the last bit at the bottom of the mixing bowl.

How much did she want it?

Not that much.

~End~

Isabel Caves

Poetry, Fiction & Photography

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Skruulraken's Words

The blog of works by Connor R. Ryan.