Short story


The man stared at the menu, hoping to see a selection of steaks cooked in various ways and fine wines. But the layout wasn’t usual. Rather, it began at the man’s birth and ended somewhere he didn’t want to go:

Starter: One rasher of late-night gin followed by rampant sex with an unknown vintage, then conception.

With a sour side plate of poverty, stupidity, and acne.

Main course: Bad decisions, sweetened with confusion.

Optional fries.

Pudding: Roly-poly in comfy slippers, hooked nose, and saggy earlobes.

“Isn’t there anything else?” He asked the waiter.

“No. It’s too late. This is a recap of your life, sir.”

“Well, why wasn’t I handed a full menu of options when I was born?”

“Better choices were always available sir, but you didn’t bother to place an order.”

Copyright © 2019 Bridget Webber. All rights reserved

Independent content creator, ghostwriter, author mental health advocate, and poet.

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