Thursday, 26 January 2012

It's a sausage roll, so sue me!

“I wouldn’t do that if I were you.” The voice was metallic, slightly grating.

“Huh?” I said. I was just reaching into the open fridge to grab the last sausage roll for my lunch.

“The item you are currently engaged in extracting is of low nutritive value, and contains more than your recommended daily amounts of fat and salt.”

“So?” I retorted, somewhat defensively, “I’m in a hurry, I’ll eat some fruit later or something.”

“Based on records of your past behaviour in this regard, the likelihood of your consuming fruit or vegetables today is calculated to be approximately .02034543%.” I’m sure a note of smugness had crept into the voice as it said this.

Approximately?” I said, sarcastically. My hand hovered over the inviting little plastic tray with its lone occupant – the last survivor of six siblings. My fingers twitched, undecided.

“Yes,” the voice replied, “I am capable of calculating the odds to 20+ decimal places, but given the element of uncertainty inherent at the quantum level, coupled with the element of irrationality with which humans are wont to pepper their decision-making, a calculation even to this level of precision is at best an approximation.”

“Poor you,” I said, picking up the pastry delicacy.

“No,” said the voice, “Poor you. Consumption of that sausage roll will increase the probability of your premature death or disablement by heart disease, cancer or stroke.”

“But it’s just one little…” My voice trailed off.

There had been six rolls a few days ago, now there was just one.

I lived alone and the cat didn’t care for pastry.

My clothes had been feeling a little tight lately.

Sighing, I dropped the sausage roll into the bin. I seemed to remember there being some cottage cheese and celery in the back of the fridge (I have no idea how it got there; I’m sure I didn’t order it. Maybe the cat did it for a joke).

The bin lid thunked closed and I turned back to the fridge and my gastronomic equivalent of a hair shirt.

The voice spoke again.

“The item you have just consigned to the trash was still within its best before date and was undamaged and free of contaminants. According to the government’s policy on domestic waste reduction, I am required to deduct 200 green points from your household account. Your current balance is minus –“

“GIVE ME A BREAK!” I yelled.

Damn SmartHouse(TM)!

Worst.

Decision.

Ever.

8 comments:

  1. Oh that is too funny! ha ha, you just can't win!

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  2. LOL! I wouldn't let some smartypants Smarthouse talk ME out of a sausage roll. But then I could stand to lose a few pounds. Is there a correlation? Hmm...

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  3. Very nice. :-)

    And "...gastronomic equivalent of a hair shirt" is just too lovely.

    Pearl

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  4. Thanks, people, glad you all enjoyed. I actually was eating a soss roll when I weote this.

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  5. I love sausage rolls and I hate technology that is convinced it is smarter than me. I was in a public restroom yesterday sneaking up on a movement sensitive faucet that refused to give me enough water to rinse the soap (also automatically dispensed) off my hands. I had to pretend to leave and then return as someone else.

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  6. English Rider - I was once completely flummoxed by a public restroom in Germany that had movement sensors on the taps. I stood there like an eejit for ages looking for any knobs or pedals or something to get the water to come on. You are by no means alone.

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