prompt: It was hot. I hated heat. Heat is for cooking. I’m not meat.
Sweat dripped down Frank’s forehead. He wiped his brow with his sleeve. “It’s too hot,” he groaned, “Why did I move to this desert wasteland?”
His best friend, Tom, chuckled. “I don’t know, maybe it’s because you wanted to be cooked like a steak?”
Frank shot him a glare. “It’s too hot to do anything.”
Tom grinned mischievously. “Let’s go to the barbeque place down the street.”
“Listen.” Frank pointed a finger towards the outdoors. “Heat is for cooking, Tom. I’m not meat.”
Tom burst out laughing. “Let’s go.”
The rumble of his stomach gave him away. Frank reluctantly agreed.
They entered the restaurant, the heat hit them like a ton of bricks. Frank felt like he was melting, and he was pretty sure his friend was enjoying every minute of it. “This is an outdoor restaurant?”
“Acclimate.” Tom ordered a full rack of ribs and a beer, while Frank opted for a salad and a glass of ice water.
“I can’t believe people actually enjoy this kind of weather,” Frank grumbled. He fanned himself with a menu.
Tom smirked. “You know what they say? If can’t handle the heat–”
“Don’t tickle the dragon.” Frank rolled his eyes.
After finishing their meal, Frank said. “Thanks for the meal, Tom. But I think I’ll stick to air conditioning from now on.”
Tom grinned. “Suit yourself, Frank.”