Harold came downstairs holding a large food quality plastic bag like a deflated balloon. Inside was a small clump of multicoloured goo.
“What’s that,” said Jasfoup as he placed it on the table. “Have you miniaturized and captured a pink spiral galaxy?” He leaned forward and tried to poke the object with a pencil.
“No,” said Harold. “That, my friend, is what happens to candy floss when you keep it for three months.”
“Candy floss? Really?” Jasfoup poked it again. “I’d never have guessed. Why did you keep it so long?”
“To be honest,” said Harold, “I ate so much that night we went to the fair I forgot about it.”
“I remember.” Jasfoup sat back. “They had to close early when that chap died of fright on top of the Ferris wheel.”
“True.” Harold sighed. “I told Gillian Ferris wheels were boring, but would she listen?”
“What will you do about this?” Jasfoup poked the lump of hardened sugar again.”
“Simple,” said Harold. “I’ll sell it on e-bay as a model of a spiral galaxy.”