Those were the days of pizza-craze.
Favourite food? The answer, without skipping a beat, was ‘Pizza’.
A–, the popular joint frequented by many facets of Youth, eager to be seen, was The Place for The Pizza.

So we went there one day, yearning for Pizza, but somehow had not realised that the day was doomed. Perhaps God had tried to catch my eye, to give out some subtle warnings, but I refused to note them.

I guess I didn’t have to ponder over the menu much. I must have named one without hesitiating. But the guy who came to serve us had other ideas. He had apparently just been given a session by his superior on how to coax customers to try their new delicacy – Pasta.

We tried to smile our way out of it, but to no avail. He had his claws well planted, and refused to budge them. A Pizza and a Pasta, he suggested. We really did not think we could devour both. After a great deal of futile resistance, we gave in. The guy surely was good at his task, besides having freshly sharpened claws. Maybe we were curious deep inside to know what this pasta fuss was all about.

Regret! The moment the first little forkful went in. We looked at each other. Groan. How, how, did we fall into this mess? And which way do we escape?

I prefer to forget the rest of the evening. A lot of pasta still remaining in the plates, the bill paid, some hollow comments left on ‘How delicious it was! Next time we are gonna order only pasta!’ we crossed the borders of the place, never to return.