Time of Your Life Competition

'It's mine!' I say, grabbing it off the plate.

'It's not,' she says. 'You've had four pieces already--I only had three.'

'I can't help it if I eat fast,' I say. 'I'm a growing boy. I need energy.'

'Growing boy?' she says. 'You're an old man!'

'Am not,' I say.

'Are so,' she says. 'You're seventy years old. You're bent double and the only hair you've got left is the stuff growing out of your nose. Face it, you're old.'

'Elderly,' I say. 'But not old. Not like you, you wrinkly old hag.'

'That does it!' screams Jen. She swipes at me with her walking stick. It hits me in the ear. I topple backwards off my seat. The slice of pizza goes flying into the air. My head hits the floor.

I don't know how long I'm out for but when I open my eyes I see Jen about to scoff the pizza.

I have to think fast.

'Eat that and you'll regret it,' I say.

'Yeah, right,' she says.

'I'm serious, Jen,' I say. 'I spat on it.'

'Do you really expect me to fall for that one?' she says, about to put it into her mouth.

'No, not really,' I say. 'But the truth is much worse. I put rat poison on it.'

'I still don't believe you,' she says.

'Don't believe me, then,' I say. 'Go ahead. Enjoy it. Just don't blame me when you're frothing at the mouth and rolling around the floor in agony.'

Jen shakes her head. And laughs. But she doesn't eat the pizza. She puts it down on the bench. I can't believe she's fallen for such an obvious trick.

'What's the matter, Jen?' I say. 'I thought you didn't believe me.'

'I don't,' she says, 'I'm just not hungry. I think I'll eat it later.'

She walks away. I get up and lunge for the pizza. My hands close around it. Victory! I stuff it into my mouth before she can stop me.

It's been worth the wait. The cheesy taste of pizza fills my mouth...beautiful....the cheesy minty taste of pizza...hang on. Minty? Pizzas aren't supposed to taste minty. It's toothpaste! Jen must have sabotaged the pizza while I was out cold.

I spit it onto the floor.

Jen is laughing her guts out. 'Enjoying your pizza?' she says, wheezing. 'It's extra minty, just the way you like it!'

'Laugh any harder and your dentures will fall out,' I say.

She guffaws again, and her top teeth do fly out. They bounce off the table and land in the dog's bowl. She stops laughing. I start. At least I won't be the only one with a horrible taste in my mouth tonight.