…and on the 8th day, micro fiction was published on some dude's blog.


Betty pulled the tray out of the fridge and carefully set it on the counter. She opened the cupboard and got herself a plate, opened the bread box and retrieved the bread, and pulled a knife out of the silverware drawer.

She took two slices of bread out of the bag and threw them in the toaster. As they warmed up, she peeled the plastic wrap away from the tray and carefully cut two slices.

The bread popped up from the toaster, perfectly golden brown. Betty snatched up the slices, put them on her plate, and assembled her sandwich. Unable to help herself, she picked it up and took a bite before she’d begun to put things away or even walk her plate over to the table to eat.

Bliss. Betty smiled and continued chewing. And chewing.

And chewing.

She was convinced that the only thing better than Thanksgiving dinner were the several days of leftover tofurkey sandwiches afterwards.

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4 thoughts on “Bliss

  1. HA–I was waiting for the twist because you never said turkey in the beginning. Nice and topical as always. Oh, and EW. Tofurkey should only be eaten wearing yoga pants. Maybe actually doing yoga…..and in a whole foods store….and in a different country. Is tofurkey even American? I kind of feel like eating it is like spitting on a statue of Abraham Lincoln.

    Also, note to self, work on being accepting of people’s food choices. Gobble gobble.

    • Yeah, it’s basically like spitting on the Lincoln Memorial and then dumping your garbage in the reflecting pool.

      Just kidding, vegetarian and vegan friends! But I must admit I’m not a fan of tofu.

  2. Not going to lie, at first I saw that as “Taking a dump in the reflecting pool” which we would both agree CROSSES THE LINE.

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