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We went to the reastaurant for a meal for my birthday in September. It was cold outside so I took several coats to stay warm against the coldness, because it was cold outside, you see. We arrived inside the restaurant and a lady showed us to our table. It was round and had four seats, and no plausable similie to accompany it.
A drone with a beard handed us a menu each and I read it. It took me around 27 minutes to find the actual food, there were many pages of wines which I wasn't allowed to drink - I'd been sober since the accident in Berlin. The list of dishes wasn't very impressive, it was decidedly unimpressive actually. I thought about pelting the bearded drone with a handful of rock salt which I always kept in the chest pocket of my blue coat, but decided against it as I dislike making a scene.
From the sparse list of food I chose to order a steak, with a side order of onion rings, because I do like onion rings on a hot summer day. The weather outside was rather bracing, so a hot-day food would surely warm me up. I was wrong. The steak was mostly unpleasant and I had to cause a fuss. "This steak is chewy!" I yelled in the face of the bearded man, who turned an uncomfortable pink and promised to refresh my platter. He took twenty minutes, the vile poker-hound. He looked the sort to be on drugs. "Bearded man, I cried, bring me my meal for I fear I shall faint if sustinence is not placed before me."
He scurried into the kitched, probably to spit on my meal, and brought it to me with flailing ragdoll limbs. I couldn't eat it though, not with the thought of his flakes of dry-mouthed spit on my steak. I merely devoured my onions rings and slipped my steak into my coat pocket, the dogs would eat it instead.
I didn't leave the bearded man a tip, he'd probably have spent it on drugs or prostitutes anyway. And as prostituted were heavily involved in the incident in Berlin that stops me drinking wine I am against the entire issue.
I left the restaurant in a flurry and clip-clopped down the cobbled road to my prestene cottage. However a wolf blocked my path. He probably wanted to rob me for money to buy drugs. The wolf lunged at me and began tearing at my chest. I remembered the juicy steak in my pocket, and the bearded man spitting on it so I wouldn't eat it. It was all a plan to rob me for drug money. I knew it!
A drone with a beard handed us a menu each and I read it. It took me around 27 minutes to find the actual food, there were many pages of wines which I wasn't allowed to drink - I'd been sober since the accident in Berlin. The list of dishes wasn't very impressive, it was decidedly unimpressive actually. I thought about pelting the bearded drone with a handful of rock salt which I always kept in the chest pocket of my blue coat, but decided against it as I dislike making a scene.
From the sparse list of food I chose to order a steak, with a side order of onion rings, because I do like onion rings on a hot summer day. The weather outside was rather bracing, so a hot-day food would surely warm me up. I was wrong. The steak was mostly unpleasant and I had to cause a fuss. "This steak is chewy!" I yelled in the face of the bearded man, who turned an uncomfortable pink and promised to refresh my platter. He took twenty minutes, the vile poker-hound. He looked the sort to be on drugs. "Bearded man, I cried, bring me my meal for I fear I shall faint if sustinence is not placed before me."
He scurried into the kitched, probably to spit on my meal, and brought it to me with flailing ragdoll limbs. I couldn't eat it though, not with the thought of his flakes of dry-mouthed spit on my steak. I merely devoured my onions rings and slipped my steak into my coat pocket, the dogs would eat it instead.
I didn't leave the bearded man a tip, he'd probably have spent it on drugs or prostitutes anyway. And as prostituted were heavily involved in the incident in Berlin that stops me drinking wine I am against the entire issue.
I left the restaurant in a flurry and clip-clopped down the cobbled road to my prestene cottage. However a wolf blocked my path. He probably wanted to rob me for money to buy drugs. The wolf lunged at me and began tearing at my chest. I remembered the juicy steak in my pocket, and the bearded man spitting on it so I wouldn't eat it. It was all a plan to rob me for drug money. I knew it!
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Just a point of contention - I never actually stated the gender of the protaganist and I visualised it as a woman - strange how different people interpret it.
Your main character has just a hint of madness about him. And paranoia. Which is never a bad thing.
Yeah, I get that all the time. Bloody wolves.
Goodun.
Goodun.
Exactly, you don't even remember what forum you posted your thread in.
EH?
Your not really in a position to be calling anybody crazy.
Thanks, you crazy tasteless people.
It was ood, but it made me smile, the first paragraoh in particular.
It was crap, really.
Just couldnt be bothered writing anything I had to think about, so my fingers wrote that for me.
Just couldnt be bothered writing anything I had to think about, so my fingers wrote that for me.
This story will self-destruct in one minute.
A bit crackpot. It had some tasty bits.
A bit crackpot. It had some tasty bits.
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