Tom had one goal: impress his date with a “gourmet” meal. With a recipe open and ingredients scattered, he started confidently. But the kitchen soon looked like a battlefield. Flour clouds filled the air; noodles clung to the ceiling.
He was pulling a scorched pan from the oven when the smoke alarm blared. Just as his date arrived, the dog slipped, knocked over a bottle of sauce, and chaos spread. She stared, wide-eyed, but then burst into laughter. “Well,” she said, “at least you tried!”
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Tuesday, October 9th, 2012
“May I speak to Anton Heft, please,” requested the professional voice over the phone. Anton was finishing up another roof for Steve when the phone rang. He was in a filthy pair of ripped-up blue jeans that looked as though they’d been through several years worth of roof jobs. His filthy tank top was rolled and tied around his forehead like Jim McMahon’s headband. The combination of the dirt, humidity and roof tar smeared various shades of black and gray all over his body and clothes.
By Anton Mathias Heft 6 days ago in Fiction
Comments (4)
What a funny short story and a happy ending for two.
night alone in a lonely house in a thick forest
midnight solace
Cooking at night when neighborhood is silent 😶