It was a cold winters day (the kind of winter you got before global warming). My brother phoned me and said "are you home for dinner?". This could mean only one thing, he was cooking good food and I would be eating some. :)
So, I decided that I would eat nout until I returned home. I could hear the gurgles of my stomach as it groaned for food and the insuing pain of emptiness lingered. The wait would be worth it however, as my brother is a good cook and works as a chef at a local hotel.
The time approached and I left work. The drive home seemed to take forever as I lick my lips in hungry anticipation of the dinner to come. In my haste I almost run over two pedestrians, then I realised it wasn't me that almost ran them over, it was my dad, who was driving.
Upon arrival I could smell the food eminating from the kitchin, but the wait was not over. He had not finished cooking. :eek: Finally, 30 minutes later dinner was ready - I sat at the table poised, awaiting my grub. Suddenly an overwhelming feeling of nausia and anger came about me. I looked at my plate and there they were. FISH CAKES.....
"I HATE FISH CAKES, THEY SMELL LIKE FISH AND THEY TASTE LIKE FISH. I HATE ALL FISH, EXCEPT THE FISH I LIKE" - I said. My brother accused me of acting like a child, but no one understands how much I hate fish cakes. I cried like a cat for 40 minutes, I stamped my feet on the floor, but still the fish cakes were there. I threw the plate accross the room, I stabbed my neck with a fork. But still the fish cakes were there.
Drenched in blood and carrying a bashed ego, I took myself to bed. Tommorow I tell thee, I shall be cooking my own dinner. :wave:
