Written by Chris Barker on October 27, 2012
Arranged by Ian Aleksander Adams on November 11, 2012
Published in Issue 003
I cracked a smile as the last inches of her body hit the ground barely. Able to contain the laughter, I knew was boiling under the surface. The bowl of soup she previously held was. Already shattered and spread far across, the floor ahead of her beckoning some other poor figure. To share her hilarious predicament, I couldn't contain myself anymore, and the laughter. Poured forth like water from an old broken dam - her tears only mildly - inducing feelings (of guilt, I knew she wasn't hurt) too badly and hoped.
When she came to her senses she would be, laughing too which she did. Once the sting of hitting concrete. At some, miles an hour wore off once I felt spent. Of laughter, I helped her up, cleaned. The gelatinous soup, from the floor and sat back, down in our booth. Patiently waiting for a replacement, entree since after all it. Had been, that inept waitres's "S Fault" in the first Pl., Ace.