Bite Me
By Linda Garnett
“Jaroc, stop playing with your sandwich and eat it,” said the nanny.
He lifted the top slice off the sandwich and gagged at the sight of the slimy pink meat.
“I’m not eating this weird stinky food.”
The nanny glared at him. “Don’t insult me, you haven’t even tried it. It came all the way from Pluto.”
Jaroc slammed down the bread slice. “I don’t want it.”
She put her face inches from his. They stared at each other, neither blinking.
“Stop playing with that sandwich or else.”
“Or else what? My mother will punt kick you all the way back to Pluto when I tell her you forced me to eat this crap.”
The nanny gritted her teeth. “All right, no iguana juggling with your friends this afternoon. You can play with that sandwich instead.”
She walked out of the kitchen.
A throaty growl caught Jaroc’s attention. He glanced around the kitchen but didn’t see his dog.
He shrugged and poked at the sandwich. It snarled. Jacroc jumped out of his chair.
“What the - ”
He picked up a butter knife off the kitchen counter and stabbed the sandwich. It shrieked.
Jaroc laughed hysterically as he stabbed the howling sandwich again, but failed to notice the large pointed incisors under the top slice.
The nanny came running when she heard the blood curdling scream.
“Jaroc?”
She heard a burp and saw the sandwich run its tongue along its crust.
She smirked. “I told him not to play with his food.”
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Linda Garnett is currently editing her first novel, a sci-fi comedy. Her work has appeared in Stories That Lift, New Flesh, Flashes in the Dark, Static Movement, and The Short Humour Site.
By Linda Garnett
“Jaroc, stop playing with your sandwich and eat it,” said the nanny.
He lifted the top slice off the sandwich and gagged at the sight of the slimy pink meat.
“I’m not eating this weird stinky food.”
The nanny glared at him. “Don’t insult me, you haven’t even tried it. It came all the way from Pluto.”
Jaroc slammed down the bread slice. “I don’t want it.”
She put her face inches from his. They stared at each other, neither blinking.
“Stop playing with that sandwich or else.”
“Or else what? My mother will punt kick you all the way back to Pluto when I tell her you forced me to eat this crap.”
The nanny gritted her teeth. “All right, no iguana juggling with your friends this afternoon. You can play with that sandwich instead.”
She walked out of the kitchen.
A throaty growl caught Jaroc’s attention. He glanced around the kitchen but didn’t see his dog.
He shrugged and poked at the sandwich. It snarled. Jacroc jumped out of his chair.
“What the - ”
He picked up a butter knife off the kitchen counter and stabbed the sandwich. It shrieked.
Jaroc laughed hysterically as he stabbed the howling sandwich again, but failed to notice the large pointed incisors under the top slice.
The nanny came running when she heard the blood curdling scream.
“Jaroc?”
She heard a burp and saw the sandwich run its tongue along its crust.
She smirked. “I told him not to play with his food.”
- - -
Linda Garnett is currently editing her first novel, a sci-fi comedy. Her work has appeared in Stories That Lift, New Flesh, Flashes in the Dark, Static Movement, and The Short Humour Site.
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