Won Ton Soup

So it’s a blustery Tuesday night in a strange town.  (Strange as in ‘unfamiliar’ not strange as in ‘hello-nice-to-meet-you-have-you-met-my-wife-who’s-also-my-sister!’).  I have just spent 3 hours of my evening in a mildly interesting meeting.  I spoke once at the meeting only to say thanks to the person on my left who picked up my pen from the floor.  I accidently dropped it and it had landed under my seat out of my eye range.  I kept bending down to find it, then shifting position and bending down again, achieving nothing except a very red face.  The person to my left – who had been equally silent – reached down with little effort and returned it to my possession.  I muttered ‘thanks’ whilst raising my eyebrows slightly for some unknown reason.  Not only was I the only mute in the room but I now had a beetroot coloured face and appeared to be hitting on the middle-aged pen-finding lady on my left. 

By 11pm I needed a drink!  I couldn’t have a drink so instead I decided to treat myself to a Chinese take-away – hence being in a strange town on a blustery Tuesday night. 

The pleasant Chinese lady behind the counter asked me if I was ready to order.  I was, on one condition:  “Is your honey, chilli chicken sticky and crispy?”  The answer was affirmative so I ordered. 

“Anything else?” she replied. 

“Emm, yes can I also have one tin?”  This is where it all went wrong. 

“Wonton?”

“eh..” I laughed nervously “no…sorry, just one tin of coke”

“Ok so it’s a honey and chilli chicken with chips, wonton soup and a coke, that’ll be £9.25 please”

“Em, actually I was saying ‘one tin’ not ‘wonton’.  I just want one tin… of coke”

Slight hesitation

“Yes that is all right” said the server with her unflustered smile, “that’s £9.25”

I gave her a tenner and she gave me 75p.

I got home, ate my honey and chilli chicken, drank my coke and poured my wonton down the toilet.  

By 12.25am I still needed a drink!