The Rise and Fall of the Teapot Restaurant

It was 2016, and I had an idea: a restaurant shaped like a giant teapot. The spout would be the entrance. The lid would be the skylight. The handle, I reasoned, would be a bar.

It cost 410,000 treats to build and opened to a flurry of excitement. On the first night, a table of eight cats got stuck in the spout. On the second, it rained, and the lid leaked. By the end of the month, the critics had named it ‘the saddest vessel in the district.’ I closed it after 91 days. The teapot still stands, now a pet hotel. I have never forgiven myself, nor the lid.