The five of them sat around the table. He was at the head, smiling at the others beside him.
‘Thank you, for the invite,’ he said.
‘Thank you for accepting,’ gushed the lady of the house. ‘We love welcoming our new neighbours.’
‘Have there been many neighbours?’
‘Oh about twelve in the last year,’ she said. ‘Isn’t that about right, dear?’ she asked looking at her husband across the table.
‘Yes, darling. I think so’
‘So what’s for dinner?’ asked the guest, losing at the empty dishes in front of him.
‘Well, you are our guest of honour and lucky thirteen, so it’s only the very best,’ said the lady.
He laughed. ‘Lucky? I always thought thirteen was unlucky.’
‘Oh well, unlucky for you perhaps, but lucky for us.’
They carved him up for dinner and enjoyed his brain with a dash of red wine. The children had juice, of course.
‘I wonder,’ said the little girl, ‘who number fourteen will be.’
(c) Sanch V @ Sanch Writes (13 July 2016)
Inspired by the Daily Prompt: Guest and written for Day 4 of the Write Tribe Festival of Words Challenge***