“Will ya look at that?” asked Harry Pulansky, resting his hands on his hips. “What’s with all the round doors in this country. Foreigners do the strangest things.”
“Harry, we’re in their country. You’re the foreigner,” scolded JoAnne.
“Now how can I be the foreigner? I speak English.” countered Harry. “Anyway, let’s go back to the hotel for lunch. At least they serve real food there.”
“Harry, why can’t we try a local restaurant? Don’t you want to experience the culture here?”
Are you kidding me?” asked Harry. This Ching-Chong country probably serves bugs as appetizers and their pets as the main course. I want a good old fashioned hamburger.”
“There’s a place right over there that serves noodles. You like noodles.” suggested JoAnne.
“With tomato sauce and meatballs. This ain’t Italian, ya know.”
“Italy,” corrected his wife.
Well whatever. You can bet they don’t serve good old American pizza.” countered Harry.
“Actually, pizza is…”
“Are we goin’ or what?” Harry said, cutting her off.
“Sometimes I wonder why we even bother to leave home at all,” complained JoAnne.
“Yeah,” muttered Harry. “I wonder that too.”
Word Count: 187
[This is my entry this week into the Flash Fiction for Aspiring Writers challenge, hosted by Priceless Joy. A photo prompt is given and writers are encouraged to create a short story of 100 – 150 words, + or – 25 words.
I wanted to pop in and see how my ethnocentric buddy Harry Pulansky was doing. Seems he made it back from Cairo in one piece and is off to a new exotic location. You can read about him more in the story A Sunny Day in Cairo.]