Tuesday 19 May 2009

The Most Important Meal of the Day

The dormice, from the jars in the back bedroom, were done to perfection, their little bacon blankets crisping up nicely. The eggs were resting so that the hot fowl broth could seep back into the bodies of the baby birds and soften up their filigree bones. The bright paint on the eggshells looked so cheery in the dirty light, the red and the gold and the deep beetle green, and the fact that they were served in shot glasses rather than proper eggcups only added to their charm. The toast was translucent and in each perfect triangle a woman’s face was branded in a cameo of darker brown crumbs. In the plain white porcelain teapot that was only slightly chipped but quite badly stained there was enough fortified wine to wash the feast down, and in the matching sugar bowl there was another kind of white powder for pudding. It was the perfect breakfast and there was a place laid for the monkey too, even though the monkey only eats hair.

10 comments:

  1. i dig you. next time, i'm coming for breakfast. the monkey can get his own.

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  2. Yumm. Those dormice are done to perfection, still crispy. Your mind is a extraordinary place and your writing is so precise. Wonderful stuff, lovely breakfast.

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  3. Jason - of course you can come, but you have to bring your own bib.

    Paul - there's a place set for you, too.

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  4. This is yet another inspiring blog I have followed Paul to...it's absolutely delicious. I'll be back, with an appetite!

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  5. Here, behind this glass, you are wide open.
    Raw, fresh, cut above and leaking sweet, sweet dew.
    I love your writing x
    Snout

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  6. Here, behind this glass, you are wide open.
    Raw, fresh, cut above and leaking sweet, sweet dew.
    I love your writing x
    Snout

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  7. I imagine Snout does interesting things with his venerable proboscis. The better to lap at that dew. Ever heard of anteaters employed as Self Pleasure Devices?

    On a side note, I have hair to donate, if the monkey should ever get hungry.

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  8. Oh my, I am found out. Snout really is an anteater. I just put a bonnet on him and pretend he's my boyfriend. I used to have a real boyfriend, but he chewed through his wrist and got away.

    Any hair is welcome, along with sundry body-parings and peelings. Leave them in the second book along and the monkey will come and pick them up.

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  9. Maxine, thank you for coming, I am going to come and have a look around your place now. See you there...

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  10. P.S. Your comment at poetman's was one of the most beautifully written and heart and strength giving things I've ever read. Thankyou.

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