The invitation had said 3pm. Paul arrived at 2.
Three hours later, and with barely a spark, Kevin was sweating.

The plan was to light it, make sure the coals were white hot (he’d read that somewhere) and then begin cooking. By the time people arrived, he’d be half way through the cook.

This would, Kev thought, have two benefits:

1) People could eat straight away.
2) Ladies would admire his amazing BBQ skills.

By 6.30pm everyone, except Paul, had left.
Reluctantly, Kevin sidled over to him and silently slid a slice of Double Pepperoni from the warm box.



This piece was submitted as part of Friday Fictioneers, hosted by Rochelle Wisoff-Fields. 1 photograph. 100 words. Often with over 100 people taking part.




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