Posted inGorelets: Unpleasant Poems
Fortune Cookie: A Parable
The waiter brought us our check on a little silver tray, bowing while politely setting it beside my plate. Atop the scribbled paper were two fortune cookies, wrapped in wax paper, which suggested they were homemade. "Oooh," Paul said from across the table, reaching out. I playfully slapped his hand away. "I already told you, Paul. Dinner's on me." He kept his hand wavering in the air. "That doesn't mean you get all the cookies." He went for the tray again. I moved it out of his reach -- which was fairly easy because he was sloshed on pear wine.…