Archive | Food RSS feed for this section

Eat the green jelly.

23 Jul

The stain on his tongue was a dead giveaway but he didn’t care. Green jelly crystals, straight out of the packet and as dry as a nun’s nasty. He couldn’t get enough of them.

They glowed fluorescent and irresistible. Raspberry, lemon, and orange were no good…just sorry stand-ins. Pretenders to perfection.

Every night in the pantry, he fed his dark side.

Be thankful.

22 Jul

“It’s making me crazy”,  said Marta. “I’m cooking dinner…he’s smiling at me, I’m in the laundry…he’s smiling, I’m feeding the baby…smiling again”.

“Maybe he’s happy”.

“What’s he got to be happy about? Nobody smiles like that unless they’re getting something”.


Take a step back.

20 Jul

Damn…he’d done it again.

He tried giving the problem his whole attention, going over it again and again until he was dizzy. His situation was getting worse, if anything. He felt immobilised, frozen.

Where did he go wrong? How did he get here? If he could go back and start again…what would he do differently?

Praise the saints among us.

15 Jul

Sometimes at night, between three and four she called out. The city was dark and mostly silent…empty. “OY!” she’d yell, “GOTHAM CITY”, and “I KNOW WHERE THE ANGELS ARE”.

There were halos around the lights, and someone sang a song for her nearby. God bless, God bless us all.

Wear waterproof mascara.

14 Jul

Sonia headed for the ladies’ loo after the first round of speeches. Entree dishes were being cleared, as more like-minded women pushed back their chairs and grabbed their sequinned clutch purses. She led the pack.

She saw a familiar look in the mirror…always there after a few champagnes. A blank, fixed stare saying, “What am I doing here?”. 

It was hard to break the spell, but if she didn’t blink soon her mascara would run.


Eat local.

11 Jul

He liked Pho for lunch. Every day for three months he walked the two blocks from his practice and ordered the same thing. He always ordered Pho…but every time, every time he imagined saying, ‘Fee Fi Fo Fum’. He didn’t say it because he knew he would have to explain Fee Fi Fo Fum to Danh while people waited behind him. Nah.

On his last day in Saigon he gave Danh the last of his local coins, “I’ve enjoyed your Pho very much, thank you”.

“Yes, yes…FEE FI FO FUM, hahahahahaha! Fee fi fo fum, I smell the blood of an Englishman”.

Keep an eye on them.

7 Jul

It was tough turning the snags and keeping an eye out for Sandra. He wasn’t sure what she’d gotten up to but it couldn’t be good. Sandra was always a moll when friends were over…dressed like a moll, acted like a moll, pissed as a moll, the whole bloody caper. In a minute he’d go looking for her. Ethan walked up.

“You need a hand with with those? Sandy’s in the pool starkers”. “Nah” he said, “She’ll keep”.

Now, at least he knew where she was.

Avoid moderation.

4 Jul

The most surprising thing about the custard was the way it felt between her toes. She liked the warm silkiness of it, and the soft,  burping sounds it made when she moved. After an hour she climbed out and took a shower.

He took her locker key. “Are you ready to try it without the robe?”

“I’m not sure I’ll ever be ready”.


Image

Hit the piste.

2 Jul

Image

Don’t take it personally.

25 Jun