Haute Cuisine by Kate Twitchin

 “At it again? I don’t know why you bother.”

Go on, spoil it for me, like you always do.

“You should see the size of Avril’s.”

I have, actually, and much more besides.

“They’re enormous.”

Size isn’t everything, you moron.

“Hers are far superior to yours.”

There you go again, undermining me, belittling me, putting me down…hang on though, how?

“How would you know?”

“There’s a gap in the fence down by the ditch where it’s overgrown with brambles and nettles but I managed to…”

“You were trespassing?”

“Checking out your opposition.”

“You were trespassing.”

“I don’t fancy your chances.”

“What?”

“You’ll be a laughing stock. Compared to Avril’s, yours are pathetic.”

“It’s not about winning or losing, it’s about taking part.”

“It’s about wasting time and money, is what it is. I’ve told you before to pack it in.”

Yes, you have, but I can’t, I won’t, it’s all I’ve got. Almost all I’ve got. Fortunately, I also have Avril, my best friend, my lifeline.

“When are you coming in? I want a cup of tea.”

Oh Avril, dear friend, rescue me from this odious man.

“Don’t forget I’m playing darts tonight. Have you ironed my club shirt?”

“Yes, of course.”

“What’s for dinner?”

Trust me, you don’t want to know. You see, there’s much more to my friend Avril than her massive melons and award-winning cabbages. Poke around her raised beds and you’ll find all sorts of interesting and unusual herbs, mostly innocent and wholesome but some, which she obligingly pointed out to me, are quite the opposite.

“Casserole.”

“Well, even you can’t mess that up.”

You’re right, it’ll be perfect. Let’s just say, with a few carefully chosen ingredients from Avril’s allotment, I don’t fancy your chances.

Selected: Weekly Write #15

Published in Issue #29

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