Who Ate My Lunch?
A missing curry and a very guilty face
Every Sunday, I cook my meals for the week and each box carefully.
Last week, I made a special beef curry that I had been looking forward to for days.
I wrote my name on the box and placed it neatly in the .
On Monday, while I was working at my desk, I kept thinking about that curry.
At lunchtime, however, the box was gone, and only a dirty fork was left behind.
My delicious curry had been eaten by someone in the apartment.
There was only one other person living there, so the case seemed simple.
"Luka," I said calmly, "was my curry taken by you this afternoon?"
"Me? Never!" he cried, while orange sauce was dripping down his .
While I was staring at him, he was quietly hiding something behind his back.
"That sauce on your face," I said slowly, "is exactly the colour of my curry."
Luka explained that the curry had been left in the for too long.
He claimed that he was only protecting me from bad, dangerous food.
"So it was eaten to save my life?" I asked, crossing my arms.
"Exactly! You should be thanking me right now," he answered with a .
I was not amused, and my empty stomach was growling angrily.
To make peace, Luka promised that a new curry would be cooked by him.
That evening, while I was reading, strange smells were coming from the kitchen.
Something was burning, and thick grey smoke was filling the whole room.
His "curry" looked like black soup and smelled even worse than it looked.
"I improved the ," he announced proudly, holding two steaming bowls.
I was too polite to , so I took one careful, tiny .
Immediately, my eyes were filled with tears, and my mouth was on fire.
Then the smoke alarm was set off, and both of us started running.