Bigfoot Dreams
“For starters, there’s no chocolate mousse, just a package of Orange Milanos that Vera’s run out to buy. At least the chicken salad’s done, chilling in the fridge. But the dream of harmonious chopping and mixing turned out to be something of a nightmare.
First Vera tried deboning the chicken before it had cooled and kept on till her fingers were puffy and burned. Grapes shot from under the knife and rolled beneath her feet. In keeping with everything else, the walnuts were rancid, a fact she did...n’t discover till she’d stirred them in; she’d picked through the entire bowl, extracting nut fragments like shrapnel. Enough curry powder will cover anything, she’d thought. But not so, not so. For courage she reminded herself that Solomon claimed to have eaten dog meat in Vietnam. But this only irked her more. Why was she suffering to cook for a man who’d eat dog meat? And when at last he rang the bell, she thought: The dog-meat eater’s here.
Solomon’s wearing jeans and his best Hawaiian shirt, a masterpiece that has probably cost him half a week’s pay and should be in a museum.MoreLess
First Vera tried deboning the chicken before it had cooled and kept on till her fingers were puffy and burned. Grapes shot from under the knife and rolled beneath her feet. In keeping with everything else, the walnuts were rancid, a fact she did...n’t discover till she’d stirred them in; she’d picked through the entire bowl, extracting nut fragments like shrapnel. Enough curry powder will cover anything, she’d thought. But not so, not so. For courage she reminded herself that Solomon claimed to have eaten dog meat in Vietnam. But this only irked her more. Why was she suffering to cook for a man who’d eat dog meat? And when at last he rang the bell, she thought: The dog-meat eater’s here.
Solomon’s wearing jeans and his best Hawaiian shirt, a masterpiece that has probably cost him half a week’s pay and should be in a museum.MoreLess
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