Dinner

Four years of college, four years of two packages of Ramen for dinner, four years of swearing that food would be rich, meaty and fresh in the future. Now that the future was here, now that a job was here, now that money was available, he was so tired each night that he stopped on his way home from work and bought horrid Chinese food or heavy Mexican plates or fat filled sandwiches with beef and bacon. Life was not what he planned for it to be.

Please leave a comment with your first 50 words on the topic “dinner.”

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Author: Virginia DeBolt

Writer and teacher who writes blogs about web education, writing practice, and pop culture.

5 thoughts on “Dinner”

  1. I walked into the restaurant that I’ve come to adore, even crave; I crave the smell, the dark wine colored walls, the candles flickering on the wooden tables, the smiles as I enter. It is late night; the patrons have left and the staff has been relieved of their duties. I immediately make my way to the back kitchen. There he is, holding a silver bowl. He swirls the contents around, as he sprinkles pink Himalayan salt from high above, fluttering his fingers like the conductor of a symphony. Oh how he creates the melodies that make my heart sing. “You’re gorgeous in your element, you know that?” I say as I spill my guts out on to his cutting board. He takes a fresh piece of yellowtail sashimi, seasoned with yuzu, cilantro and jalapenos. He brings it up to my lips. A drop of the sweet marinade slips onto my tongue and I almost come full circle. He places it in my mouth. I groan a bit as I masticate the sweet flesh of freshly caught raw tuna. “And you’re gorgeous in yours.” We grin in unison and revel in each other’s presence. He whispers, “Dinner is served.”

  2. Dudley would always sit at the spot near his bowl waiting for his dinner to be served. His usual pose consisted of floppy ears plastered to the sides of his head and doleful eyes following you whenever you moved around the kitchen area. Of course, all of that changed once he saw you approaching him with his bowl of kibble.

    He would push himself with his front paws as if wanting to jump, but never really achieving a full jump because he knew that was frowned upon in the household. That was tantamount to sheer happiness in his body language. The kibble would be ingested in two minutes, and he would then lie down contentedly next to us in the dining room and keep us company while we enjoyed our food.

  3. “Wake up .”
    She whispered into the air.
    “Why?”
    “Unnh, huh?”
    “No.””What?”
    It was not easy to wake up a roomful of sleepy children , from mid-slumber. Almost like committing a crime. But the temptation was profound , and rare.
    She was invited to the wedding feast, in the neighbourhood, along with her entire brood of children. It was a rare treat, and couldn’t be refused. Even if it entailed waking up peacefully slumbering brats.
    She flicked on the light switch, sat on the corner of someone’s mosquito-net and started listing the dishes, “there is fish-fry, chicken-curry, biryani, jalebis and pooris.”
    One by one , all eyes glued shut with somnolence, popped open, wide. Kids sat, up grinning with delight, rubbing eyes , eagerly throwing their covers away.
    This was a dinner to remember.

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