MicroHorror

The neighbors’ dog wouldn’t shut up barking. They had gone somewhere for the weekend and left it tied up in their back garden, free to torment the neighborhood with its incessant wailing, whimperings and howlings. To cap it all off I had my wife shouting down my other ear thanks to the long-distance powers of the mobile phone. “Yes, yes,” I said, trying to placate her. “Tea will be sorted out by the time your parents get here. Yeah, okay, bye.” I switched off the phone and slammed it back down on the kitchen counter in frustration. The steak pie (if you could call it that) sat in front of me, steam rising from its charred and blackened pastry body. I had barely enough time to make a new one before my wife and the in-laws got back. The only problem was I didn’t have any more beef left. From outside the neighbors’ dog was still barking. If only someone would shut the bloody thing up, I thought. The reflection of the kitchen light on stainless steel caught my eye. The lovely new kitchen knife my wife had bought the other week still hung from its rack clean and unused. What a shame. That’s when the idea struck me. I smiled, a little too pleased with myself. “Two birds with one stone,” I said as I took the knife in hand and went outside.