Friday, 19 June 2009

Breakfast coarse

'Had a good time at the sleepover?' I ask Deborah, as I collect her from Vicky's house.
'It was great,' she says. 'We stole all the DVDs with sex and violence, pretended we were asleep, then watched them till 3.15 am. Actually, we didn't need to pretend because Vicky had gone to sleep on the kitchen floor. And guess what we had for breakfast?'
Chez Vicky, it's anyone's guess.
White wine and nachos?' I venture. 'Vodka smoothies? Coco Pop crudites?'
'Breast pancakes, of course,' says Deborah brightly.
'Well, of course,' I say, looking back down the street to see if a social services SWAT team is even now breaking down Vicky's door.
Not that much later, I call Vicky to ask when exactly it was that she decided on anatomically correct portion control as the way forward in children's catering.
'It's a special mould,' she says, sounding, for her, a tad shamefaced. 'Lindy gave it to me ages ago and I'd shoved it in a drawer and forgotten about it. Little buggers nicked it. Still, it could have been worse,' she says.
'They didn't look in the other drawer. If they had, it would have been penis on toast, instead.'


Iota said...

I could so have used that mold recently for my party...

Thumbelina said...

For once, I could see that punchline coming!
Lindy has a lot to answer for...

The Gossamer Woman said...

Penis on toast may have been just a little bit too much for the tykes to handle. I mean, even I couldn't quite handle that. It's not like kidneys and liver with onions, after all. I am curious about the taste, but I assume it will not be very good, unless it had been soaked for a year in a barrel of aged scotch. Scrotum might taste better if properly prepared. There are people who eat pig's breasts and proclaim it to be a delicacy, but I think it's the ultimate insult to the pig and those people should be shot at dawn. They have no sense of decorum whatsoever.