Maybe this wasn’t such a good idea after all. It looked ok in the fridge, even though it did proclaim to have mustard. Hmm, mustard. I should have gone with my instincts. Mustard is bad, mustard is mean. Avoid mustard!

I could have had the Caesar Salad, looking at me majestically from its throne on the top shelf. Or the demure cheese roll that cowered at the back. Well I can’t go back now. It cost me a whole $2.80 for a mustard sandwich with ham. And what would the cafeteria people think? “Had one sandwich and is back for more?” they would mutter to themselves. I know what goes on in their minds!

Now it’s come down to do or die. Well maybe that’s a bit extreme but I don’t relish the thought of the angry gnawing of an empty stomach or the endless mutterings as it speaks its mind. Bite after bite I wince as the mustard grabs my tongue and sticks its barbs in my throat. My teeth start to shiver and my lips cringe. Oh hateful, HATEFUL mustard!

Gleefully I swallow the last of my sandwich and gulp my water to calm the fire that had mounted progressively with each bite. “It’s gone, it’s gone!” my mouth cheered with joy. It was now my stomachs responsibility to do with as it saw fit. But that was another matter.

Tomorrow I’m having fruit.

Categories: Short Story