50. Pants on Fire

“No, sorry.” I said, wearily. “They told me they’re fully booked but could maybe squeeze us in at 9:30.”

This was the first day of the family holiday and the boyfriend and I thought we’d try our luck at the posh, white napkin, seafood restaurant for tomorrow, which was Saturday night. A very long shot I know.

About an hour or so later, the boyfriend’s Mum says,

“I just phoned that fish place on the harbour and booked a table for all twelve of us for tomorrow night at 7 o’clock.”

“The lying bastards,” mutters the boyfriend under his breath.

“Brilliant. Thanks.” I say.

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