Supper is a disaster
And it's all my fault
A vision was had
Execution was poor
And now ingredients were wasted
It was supposed to be a potato and pork fry
With cubed meat and spuds
Bell peppers
Mushrooms
Garlic and tomatoes
But it just turned into a mess
The potatoes wouldn't crisp
Then they burned
The meat was tough and inedible
And the garlic vanished somewhere
There is no fixing this
But I don't want to waste the food used
So
It will be eaten
With regret and shame
At the supper
That this disaster has become
YOU ARE READING
365
Non-FictionI had this idea last night after a few drinks, a pounding headache, and an excessive amount of throat lozenges. In order to inspire me to write more often than I currently do, I am planning to write a new post every day and publish it, allowing me t...
