A Cautionary Tale

Waterford City: 2am or so. A large, well-refreshed gentleman queues in a kebab shop pondering the fluorescent menu before him as the queue moves gently along to the hits of the day spewing out over tinny speakers. His brave fellows queue behind him, not pondering the fluorescent menu. They are resolved it is to be a kebab and chips redeems them after the short stroll to their hotel.

The large, well-refreshed gentlemans’ eyes hit upon satisfactory fayre as he approaches the counter. He orders, “CHICKEN BAGUETTE AND CHIPS PLEASE!” then giggling, adds, in a whisper, “chicken baguette and chips please”. He places his right index finger over his pursed lips. He is the first to leave the fine establishment where he has acquired his nocturnal sustenance. His brave fellows follow him with their brown-bagged prizes.

The large, well-refreshed gentlemans’ fayre did not come in similar brown baggery but a polystyrene flip-top box accompanied by wooden fork. Steadying himself, he flipped open its’ top and pondered his delicious chicken baguette nestling in chips like a babe in swaddling. He jabbed at a chip or two with his wooden fork then pushed them into his gurning fizzog.

Replacing the fork, he then balanced the entirety on one flat palm. With his free hand, he clutched at the babe and plucked it from its’ swaddling. With one mighty bite, he guzzled down its’ shoulders and head then restored the remains to its crib. As soon as he had swallowed it down, he retook the wooden fork and returned to digging happily away once more at the deep-fried potato-y goodness within.

Feeling somewhat restored, the large, well-refreshed gentleman took to marching towards his bed in the warm, comfortable hotel where the possibility of a residents bar loomed. His brave fellows trod happily alongside him urging him to put his baguette away til they were safely ensconced in the hotel as this would hasten their arrival.

The large, well-refreshed gentleman paid no heed and continued ever forward, digging cheerfully away at his child and swaddling. The unending queue in the kebab shop stared out of the wall-high windows jealously at his golden prize.

Then, head buried therein like a nosebag, he walked into a lamppost.

His glimmering prize plummeted towards the floor. So slovenly were his alcohol-soaked reactions, he never even attempted to recover it in its’ flight. He stood forlornly holding a wooden fork in one hand, the flat palm where the crib once lay, motionless in the cool night air, his eager mouth agape.

His brave fellows, barely holding in their laughter, ushered him homewards, his footsteps now echoing into the night, his upper body, flat palm, fork hand and kebab-hole frozen in rictus.

The kebab shop roared.

Back at the hotel, his brave fellows guzzled keenly their be-pitta’d fayre. The rapidly sobering, forlorn and somnolent gentleman bemoaned his misfortune, nibbling on chips left about by his generous fellows when one of them declared,

“I’m full – do you want the rest of this kebab?”

“Do you mean it?”, he replied as he was handed the boon.

Then his other fellows did likewise and the fortunate and well-loved gentleman did feast upon his kind fellows leftovers and all was well with the world once more.

THE END

rafter
baz
(bazmorningstar efil4nat3b, Thu 21 Jan 2010, 14:30, 1 reply)

That's sweet
Have a click
( SpikeyPickle wishes he was mabazaritchie, Thu 21 Jan 2010, 15:37, closed)