A Dish Best Served Cold

All bets are off once you sit down at the bar, otherwise known as the place where all good intentions are (temporarily?) abandoned. The taps are lined up in front of you, each handle designed to convince you it’s the right choice for you. Laura, your favorite bartender, is already reaching for a pint glass. What’s a girl to do?

I was already enjoying a post-workout high so I went for it, deciding one beer wouldn’t set me back too far. Besides, I was feeling pretty good about myself and wanted to celebrate. I had secured Willie’s cell phone number. Those elusive seven digits were permanently preserved in my brain but as I sipped by beer I couldn’t help staring at the brand-new contact entry on my phone, still not believing my luck.

Luck had certainly been on my side this afternoon. I had stopped by Hadsock’s office after class to see if he had any suggestions that might help me pass calculus. Apparently I was wrong about when his office hours were because I didn’t find him in his office I did find, however, a list to sign up for tutoring. And that’s when I saw it: Willie’s name and phone number were number five on the list.

I decided my beer needed some type of accompaniment so I indulged once again and ordered a turkey burger with a side of chips and guacamole as I pondered my next move. I knew I didn’t want others making the same mistakes I made. And Willie had already benefited from too many second chances.  I opened the browser on my phone and entered in the search terms that would lead me to just the right venue where Willie’s phone number would soon be broadcast. My food arrived and I ordered a second beer, savoring the satisfaction of sweet revenge.

Written for the Weekly Writing Challenge

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2 Comments Add yours

  1. quattrohands says:

    Thought you were headed in a completely and typical direction. Well done.

    Like

    1. Thanks! Started out that way (the typical direction) but changed course mid-week.

      Like

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