The exercise:
Include garlic in some way in your writing. Bonus points for lack of vampires.
Kat and I picked up our marriage license today - we're now legally allowed to get married!
But only in the next ninety days.
If we don't, we get to pay for another ninety day license.
I don't understand a lot of things. This is just one of them.
Mine:
I could smell the garlic roasting as soon as I stepped out of the car in the driveway. Immediately my guard was up, and I had to fight the temptation to get back in and drive off into the sunset. But, foolishly, I entered the house to try to talk her down yet again.
The stench was overwhelming indoors and set my eyes to watering instantly. Blinking rapidly, I forced my way to the kitchen where I found her waiting for me.
"Welcome home, honey," she said, a plastic grin firmly affixed to her face as she offered me a plate of toast slathered in garlic butter. I almost smiled back, impressed with her subtler than usual strategy. Normally she'd just start throwing cloves in the hope that one would manage to go down my throat.
I should never have told her I was allergic to that foul bulb.
