Writing prompt for this story was – “A funny thing happened…”


Tom heard the car door slam. It was like Pavlov ringing a bell. His mouth started to salivate as he dashed to the front door. “Pizza!” He tripped over the excited dog. Tom restrained Mr. Licks to prevent escape. Wendy came in and Tom’s heart sank. She wasn’t carrying pizza. Instead, she held a large bag with the label Faux-Mex.

“That’s not pizza.”

“Yes. That’s why I married you. Your astute observational abilities.”

“Why isn’t it pizza?” Mr. Licks was jumping around as they headed into the kitchen.

“Well… A funny thing happened on my way to Domislows.”

“Funny haha or funny strange?”

“Strange.” She put the bag on the table. “Grab some plates.”

“Okay, but this better not be a cruel joke.”

Wendy began unloading several containers from the bag. “There were protesters outside the parking lot, blocking the entrance.”

“Who the fuck protests pizza?”


“Christ, what the hell is the matter with those people. Can’t anyone eat pork products in peace anymore?”

“Ummm. Yeah, about that.” Her hand hovered over one of the containers.

“God. What did you get?”

“Well, you see… One of the women out front came up to the car. She recommended this place across the street.”

“Don’t tell me it’s vegan Mexican.”

Wendy let out an exasperated, “Yes. Sort of.” She opened one of the containers. “Ta Da! It’s faux-meat fajitas.”

Tom looked over and saw strips of grilled meat laid over vegetables. He peered a little closer. “What kind of meat is it?”

“It’s Fauxbeef ™ and Fauxchicken.™  I tried the chicken. It’s not bad.”

Tom mumbled, “Not bad. Great advertising line.”  He poked at the dish with a fork. It looked beefy… Sort of. “Is it tofu?”

“Eww. No. I wouldn’t feed that shit to you. It’s animal meat grown in a vat.”

“Meat from a vat. I can see the commercials now.” This wasn’t exactly news to Tom. He followed some of the debates in Congress over the FDA allowing this food to be released to the public.

“Go on chicken… Try it.”

“Shouldn’t that be…  Go on Fauxchicken™?” He stabbed a piece and brought it to his nose, sniffing disapprovingly at it. He tasted a small bite with the enthusiasm of a five-year-old eating broccoli. Then he gobbled down the rest of the piece.

“This stuff is great! Are those tortillas?” He pointed at another container.

“Ummm… Yeah, about that.”

He glared at her. “What the hell did they do to the tortillas?” He unwrapped the package. Inside was a stack of tortillas but they were neon green.

“Ta Da!” She said like a game show model, waving her hand over them. “Made from Limeoats.™”



Thanks for reading







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