Browsing: Stories

In Poor Taste

Gwen and Will sat down at an outside table in a pleasant looking restaurant near the corner.  It was a bit noisy along the street, but the temperature was so pleasant it would be a shame not to take advantage.  The chaos of Marrakech pulsed by in rhythm with the traffic signal.  Cars, bicycles, donkeys, motorbikes and pedestrians in a jumbled mass, all jockeying for position.

It was cool in the shade of the restaurant canopy.  A dignified waiter in a crisp white coat immediately brought them menus and took their drink order.  Gwen was relieved to see that menus were available in French as well as Arabic.  An opportunity to practice!

Gwen decided on a menu item she thought she remembered having enjoyed in Paris some years before.  She ordered in French, and reinforced her choice by pointing at the item on the menu.  The waiter nodded confidently.  Will, despite Gwen’s prodding to live a little and be more open to new things, ordered a small omelette.  Plain, sans fromage.

When the food came out, Gwen was a bit confused.  Instead of the crepe dish she’d been expecting, she was being served a soup of some kind.  With some sort of oil and spice on a plate beside it.  But the waiter had already stepped away before she recovered her wits, and she was uncomfortably hungry, so Gwen decided to give the soup a try.

First, Gwen dipped her finger in the oil and put the finger in her mouth.  She made a face.  She did the same with the spice.  Another face.  Finally, she scooped up a big spoonful of soup and gave it a try.

“This is the most terrible thing I’ve ever eaten!” Gwen made the pronouncement just as Will was about to take his first bite of omelette.

“Would you like to try some?” she asked politely.

When the waiter returned to their table, he noticed Gwen munching happily on a small omelette.  Sans fromage.  He noticed the bowl of soup, oil and spices on the edge of the table near Will.  He noticed Will didn’t look happy.

“Puis-je?” asked the waiter.  He pointed at the soup.

Will nodded, thinking the waiter was asking to take the uneaten item away.

Instead, the waiter poured the oil into the center of the soup.  He added a healthy amount of the spice to the center of the oil.  He added salt and pepper from the table.  Then he stirred it all together and placed it in front of Will.

Will looked at Gwen finishing the last bite of his omelette.  He felt his stomach growl.  He picked up his spoon and tried a spoonful of soup.  Then he tried another.  It wasn’t long before the bowl was empty.

Gwen looked over at the empty bowl.   

“Aren’t you glad I convinced you to try something new?”  She smiled brightly at Will.  “You need to live a little and be more open to new things!”

{ Comments are closed }

The Waiter with Blue Eyes

Eliza and her mother lunched at a small cafe with a few tables clustered under a canopy along the street. They sipped prosecco as they chatted over salads. The waiter brought them complementary espressos with their bill.

“Didn’t our waiter have beautiful blue eyes?” Eliza’s mother commented.

“I didn’t notice,” Eliza responded.

“What beautiful blue eyes!” Eliza thought. “How sad I’ll never see him again.”

“What a pretty girl!” thought the shy waiter. “How sad I’ll never see her again.”

Eliza’s mother smiled and waved at the waiter as they left. But Eliza didn’t notice. She was looking down at her phone, booking a lunch reservation for the following day.

{ Comments are closed }

Objects in Mirror Are Older Than They Appear

Jennifer looked in the bathroom mirror and felt good about her face for the first time in ages. The new face cream she had been using had done some good. The web of lines around her eyes and mouth had smoothed out considerably. Jennifer looked younger. She FELT younger! And decidedly prettier.

Her husband, Matt, was coming into the house with a shopping bag just as Jennifer was leaving through the front door. Jennifer paused on her way out to give him a big hug and a peck on the cheek. She also gave Matt’s butt a firm squeeze as they parted. Matt hoped that boded well for his chances that evening.

Matt grabbed his stepladder from the garage and headed to the bathroom with the shopping bag. He had noticed some of the bathroom lightbulbs had grown quite dim and had purchased brighter ones. Wouldn’t Jennifer be pleased!

{ Comments are closed }

The Pool Bar

The early morning sun had not yet traveled high enough in the bright blue sky to shine into the pool area. It was cool and pleasant.

Adriano was skimming bougainvillea flowers and palm debris from the smooth surface of the pool. Laria was at the pool bar, getting ready for the morning rush of hostel guests who would want coffee or bottled water before leaving for various outings.

Occasionally, Adriano would say something and Laria would respond. But mostly they worked in silence.

Adriano thought about what it would be like to marry Laria and spend every morning just like this.

{ Comments are closed }