I’m proud to admit that in all my 83 years I’ve never been to McDonald’s. Don and I have fish and chips once a year, and that’s it. There’s nothing like home cooking.
I’m only going to McDonald’s because our grandson Liam has come to visit. He’s such a fussy eater, I don’t know what to feed him. All he can talk about is how great McDonald’s is. I order a Big Mac and a chocolate shake. When it arrives I’m a wee bit potto but Liam tells me this is normal. Everything always looks bigger and better on the menu.
For 100 consecutive days I will write and post a short story (about 100 words) incorporating a randomly selected word from Afterliff: A new dictionary of things there should be words for.
Confused by the dish put in front of you, because it doesn’t look anything like the description in the menu.
The mug that nobody uses because Grandad once kept his false teeth in it.