By Perry McDaid
It was a beautiful venue for a picnic, right next to a forest nearly as inviting as the forbidden barbecued ribs. Glowering at his stern wife, he stormed off into the dappling.
Fifty paces in, the canopy was not quite as dense as it had appeared. The refreshing aromatic shade was interspersed with blinding shafts of sunlight. Tom scratched his ass. It snorted. He wondered how it had found him: he clearly remembered tethering it to a stake in the meadow.
Sweeping the area with a suspicious scowl to ensure he was otherwise alone, he bit deeply into the filched cholesterol-burger.
Humorous little slice of life.