The Escape of El Cheapo

Eyes darting from the restaurant’s kitchen to the exit, Hobart is poised to leave before the server comes back. Timing is essential. So is nickel and diming and penny pinching. He earned the nickname, El Cheapo, for suckering his friends to pay for him until they wised up and dwindled to zero. No loss for him, as he saved time and energy by not having to scour for birthday and holiday gifts through lost and found bins in various places. Right now his goal is to dash out unnoticed. He considers changing his nickname to Dodger. It sounds more adventurous.

Reservation Not Needed

Pantry explorer,
Next best thing to traveling,
World-class appetite.

Tasty feats ahead,
Simple and gourmet cuisine,
Can’t journey, will dine.

Itinerary
Sunday: backyard – Honey-mustard chicken
Monday: patio – Supreme nacho grande
Tuesday: dining room – Oven-fried fish with squid ink pasta and garlic bread
Wednesday: dining room – Chicken biscuit casserole
Thursday: patio – Deep dish pepperoni arugula pizza
Friday: dining room – Mung bean stew with nappa cabbage and pork rinds
Saturday: backyard – Pineapple chicken and vegetables stir fry

Sheepish (100-word story)

Sheila shucks corn in her shack, stewing over a schnauzer that chewed up her Scottish scarf. Feeling skittish, she chucks the last husk into the bucket and goes outside to tend to her Shetland pony. After brushing down her sheltie, she heads to Sean’s Shed, where she’s taken a shine for the shopkeeper. She wants to invite Sean to lunch. As she faces him, she’s overcome with shyness. Shrugging off the shudder in her shoulders, succeeding only in worsening the shaking of her voice, she bleats, “Would you like some sheep butt? Wait . . . what? I . . . sheesh . . . I mean shish kebab?”