Croute of all evil

He masticated contemplatively the delicious layers of pastry and salmon before swallowing and making way for a draught of that deep, luxurious Chateauneuf. Just as he placed the crystal goblet down, and thank goodness not a moment later, his lights went out and he splodged down into the salmon en croute, cream sauce squirting rudely out onto the table and his mouth falling open in the most undignified way, half-chewed food spilling out onto the plate as his hosts stood and rushed to see if he was OK, which he wasn’t.

‘Mite makes right

What was this stinking brown stuff before him? It tasted like it had been squeezed out of an arse, though whether a human one or not he couldn’t say. Ugh! The taste was unbelievably foul. He wondered why he was even being asked to try it. Yet there was Matthew – if that was his real name – dipping his finger in and lapping it off with a grin, and not even a perverted one. If anything his expression was wholesome. It was so wrong. It w- oh, wait, it was just Vegemite.