Take-away

Catherine was, by her own omission, a terrible cook. So when, for their anniversary, sheโ€™d offered to cook a romantic meal Peter was filled with both pride and horror.

Peter stared through the train window. The idea that Catherine be left in the kitchen alone with a diamond-cut knife was one thing, but throw into the mix boiling water, searing hot pans and a complete lack of respect for logic and timing and youโ€™ve got yourself a recipe for disaster.

As the train pulled in he was comforted by the sight of 3 chip shops, and an Indian takeaway.

 


The names used within this piece are purely fictional and any baring on myself and my gorgeous lady wife of whom I have the utmost respect, admiration and love are purely coincidental.

Hereโ€™s a little 100-worder for Friday Fictioneers, hosted byย Rochelle. Please feel free to comment, critique, like or subscribe for more!

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40 thoughts on “Take-away

      1. No, but I have a daughter called Catherine so it’s maybe in the DNA ๐Ÿ™‚ There hasn’t been a frying pan, casserole or grill invented that my dad couldn’t set fire to.

  1. Hopefully the Missus burning the place down was only in his imagination. Fortunately, mine is a terrific cook with an excellent sense of timing. Now I’m hungry.

  2. Teehee! What a shock Peter will get when he reaches his home! I hope Catherine ‘just popped down to the store’ leaving stuff frying on the hob, and was safely out of the way when the conflagration began.

  3. Why he should feel comforted by the chip shops and Indian take-away is beyond me… poor bugger once he gets home and finds out she by-passed said shops! Always love your reading.

  4. Ha ha ha…the husband sounds like mine…in my initial days of marriage my hubby used to feel scared each time I entered the kitchen.. good story..enjoyed

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