Punch (an acrostic poem)

Pounding back the sugary alcohol

Until my eyes cross from both drugs hitting my system

Now he gets into my space and spits in my face

Could barely stand I was so bad off, but I could only take so much

Hitting him in the mouth put him in the same state as I as we both fell down

 

Image: cdn.liquor.com/wp-content/uploads/2009/11/dales-rainbow-planters-punch-recipe.jpg

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Damned if you do… (a 50 word story)

The layers of butter and flour stared at Frank, daring him to resist their crunchy flaky goodness.  He knew taking one bite would be the end of him.  Instead, he ate the whole thing.  Frank was in for a few rounds on his porcelain throne, but damn it was good.

 

Image:  food52.com/zwVi8ZzJ-qEVoGBvbtzCdTeQE4U=/753×502/e1096761-7b59-4ea3-81b9-c0d89708adb6–IMG_0200.jpg

My Dog Ate It (a 150 word story)

“But Mr. Perkins, my dog ate all my homework,” Johnny said as he wiped his nose.  The constant sniffle the boy had was almost more annoying than the lie he was trying to tell me.

“That was an extremely old excuse even when my dad went to school,” I said.

“But it’s the truth,” Johnny pleaded.  “Honest.”

“Don’t lie to me,” I replied.  Johnny was about to say more, but I cut him off.  “Go back to your table, or I will send you to the principal’s office.”

Johnny gave up and moped his way back to his assigned spot.  I watched him put on the plastic gloves.  Like I would believe a dog would want to eat bacon wrapped jalapeño poppers.  One bite maybe, but the rest?

“Okay students.  Pick up your knives.  Today I’m going to show you how to properly clean the skin off a snapper fillet.”

 

Image: wheretodwell.files.wordpress.com/2016/01/dog-ate-homework.jpg

Fried (an acrostic poem)

Focusing on the bubbling cauldron

Reggie watched the chicken dance

It made his mouth water as the skin tanned

Exactly two minutes later he scooped out his prize

Destroying it with his face

 

Image: assets.bonappetit.com/photos/57afb6d1f1c801a1038bd36d/16:9/w_1000,c_limit/skillet-fried-chicken.jpg

Feast (an acrostic poem)

Food poured out of the kitchen

Enough to feed a medium sized army

And all Lewis could do was watch from across the street

Salivating, he left and returned to the alleyway

To find the refuse that was the meal’s byproduct

 

Image: drsharma.ca/wp-content/uploads/feast.jpg

Carbon (an acrostic poem)

Crispy bits of animal matter

Attached itself to the grates of the grill

Reaching blackened status, then beyond

Onyx char that hardly remembered what it had once been

Now only fit for archaeologists and garbage collectors

 

Image: assets.blog.foodnetwork.ca/imageserve/wp-content/uploads/sites/6/2015/07/burger-hockey-pucks/x.jpg