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 (heβd read thatΒ somewhere) and then beginΒ cooking. By the time people arrived, heβd 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.
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This piece was submitted as part ofΒ Friday Fictioneers, hosted by Rochelle Wisoff-Fields. 1 photograph. 100 words. Often withΒ over 100Β people taking part.
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