Waste Not, Want Not.

Waste Not, Want Not.

Three sheets to the wind before he even walks in.

He grabs another beer and peeks into the pot on the stove.

Cold spaghetti inside.

He doesn’t want it.

He hurls it across the room at her.

No leftovers for us tomorrow.

16 Responses to “Waste Not, Want Not.”

  1. Dave says:

    Change the pronoun in last line, and this tale becomes an ominous threat.
    He’s such a nice guy, does my subconscious want to deal some Karmic Justice?

  2. So sad. I suspect a beating will follow. She will be sorry, but he won’t care. Later he won’t remember. I lived this. Just glad I lived through it. Course in my case the spaghetti was hot with all the fixings. Blessings. ♥

  3. I’m left wondering if the “it” he hurls is the spaghetti or the pot. :(

  4. C.C. says:

    Jerk. Didn’t deserve the spaghetti in the first place 😛

  5. Christine says:

    Damn. It’s the resignation in the last line that catches at my heart.

  6. that word, ‘hurls’…

    so sad. if its nonfiction, i’m sad to read it and hope for healing…

  7. dowbiggin says:

    Stuff like this takes me back in time and makes me rage at no one really knowing all of it or doing anything about it. I’m sorry.

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