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
SaggisticaI 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...
