I’ve got a problem that I can’t tell anyone about. Only the anonymous helping hands of casa de Beans can save me. I am sweating like a scamp just typing these words. I will have to use a fake name so it cannot be traced back to me for FEAR of besmirchment. Besmirching? For the possibility of a bad smirch.
My dog, Lavish Kibbles, passed away a few weeks ago. He choked on a sausage mouse and never recovered. I cried for several days after and eventually I got my stuff together, and sorted him out. In order to save on costs and vets bills I buried him in the back garden. The only thing is after I dug the hole I lost all the mud (I think my neighbour may have stolen it, he’s building his own Hawaiian mud shack) so I needed a substitute. With only my wits about me, I turned to the contents of my kitchen cupboards. Thankfully I’d been to Costco the other day to stock up on essentials and I’d picked up a 600lb bag of Bisto. Using the gravy granules I covered up Lavish Kibbles and retreated to the sanctity of my living room.
The crazy Summer weather conditions continued. A hot rain fell towards the end of the week. With it came the tastiest smell, wafting up from the bottom of my garden. I knew what it was and I knew I needed to control myself in case anyone discovered my disgusting yet mouth-wateringly frugal ways.
From my window I can see a river of gravy starting to flow. In my dreams I’m walking towards it, arms outstretched, a gigantic breadbun in each hand, desperate to dip. I’ve tried making my own as a way of appeasing my tastebuds but it doesn’t smell or taste the same. Only the raw, disturbing aroma emanating from my back yard will quench my thirst.
What should I do; give in to temptation and chow down on my now ex-dog or look the other way?