A Meal Fit For A God

A Meal Fit For A GodAfter too long of a break I got back into entering Microcosms last week. With contest 58 being hosted by me how could I not? Using the elements of sarcastic butler, skyscraper and memoir I came up with my tale A Meal Fit For A God. You can read the story below the break and let me know what you think of it in the comments!

A Meal Fit For A God

It all started so well. The President liked, as much as he liked anything, his recommended West Coast residence.
“Not bad, not as good as my own penthouse, nothing is good as mine.” He said as he stepped from the official car. The little flags fluttering in the wind. Even the elevator wasn’t quite as good, or fast as this own. Yet he still gasped at the view of the Bay Area.
“Good day sir.” The penthouse’s butler, accent as crisp as it was English, entered. “How may I assist?”
“Cook me the greatest burger in the history of the world.” The President demanded.
The Butler gave a small cough. “But the chef is presently out food shopping sir. You arrived earlier than we expected.”
“I am a great man, the earliest man and too important to wait.” The red of his anger almost burned through his orange tan. “Get me my burger.”
“Of course sir.” The Butler’s training forced him to bow as he left. Before the door closed, he ushered me to follow. In the kitchen, the Butler checked the fridge but it was bare. The cupboards only contained one tin. His ruler straight face gave a twitch of a smile. He tipped the dog food into a bowl, tapped in some smoked paprika and smashed it into a burger patty. The smell from the grill was foul. Topped with a bowlful of strong mustard and a burger bun, the smell was no more than a hint.
“A meal fit for a god.” The President shouted with a mouth full of jelly.
“Something like that sir.” The Butler replied.

Leave a Reply

This site uses Akismet to reduce spam. Learn how your comment data is processed.