Thursday, April 09, 2009
Harold filled a crispy potato skin with sour cream and added a sliced gherkin on the top. “Almost perfect,” he said. “It just needed a dash of something to counteract the sour pickle.”
“How about grated chocolate,” said Jasfoup, offering him the bowl he’d ‘borrowed’ from the dessert table. A glance in that direction showed a child pointing at him and an irate parent heading purposefully over. “Harold,” he hissed. “Time to go.”
“But I’ve only just found the perfect aperitif.” Harold held out the snack he’d constructed. In addition to the chocolate, he’d encountered the trifle.
Jasfoup glanced back again. The man was almost upon them. He grabbed Harold’s arm. “If you don’t move right now,” he said, “you’re going to need a pair of teeth, too.”