I entered warily. Thunder. The smell of burning rubber. The smell of rotting meat. The smell of my mum cooking.

I was a little boy - timid and hesitant. I was afraid. I picked up a tomato and stared at it. Maybe if I stared hard enough, I'd dissapear and reappear somewhere else. Somewhere nice. Somewhere safe. It didn't work.


I put the tomato down. Chop chop. Chop chop. Dabble dabble, toil and trouble. Fire burn; and couldron, bubble.

"Mom," I said, my voice shaking "I'm not hungry. May I please skip dinner?"

Her eyes were filled with tears. Suddenly, the story took a melodramatic turn, not unlike a crappy, television soap. She was weeping, and it was all my fault. "Okay, okay, I'll eat," I said, regretting it immediately. Because dinner, my uninterested friend, was served.


An hour later, chaos. Three hours later, silence. The silence of a hospital ward. Or maybe a morgue. I don't know. I was too disoriented to notice.
There was a lady standing beside me; pretty, blonde, and, by the looks of it, rich. She had a dusky, enchanting voice. "Come," she said "Let's make love." I smiled, and shook my head. "Let's not," I said "Let's just have hot, sweaty sex instead." And just as she was about to agree, just as she was about to expose her ... ahem ... nevermind. Well, just as she was about to expose them, she turned into a huge cutlet. My mum had made cutlets for dinner.


I woke up shivering. Ofcourse it was a dream. My mum doesn't cook that badly, you know.