Write when you’re hungry


Bertha looked up. The building in front of her was the shape of a baguette standing on its end and the colour of mushroom soup. She walked towards the imposing front door and raised her ham-coloured hand to knock on the frosted (translucent, not frosted like a cake is frosted) glass. It made a noise like dropping a can of baked beans on a tiled floor.
‘Hello?’ she said. The building was as silent as refrigerated milk. She waited for a few seconds, then a few more, until she had been waiting for roughly the amount of time it takes to toast a muffin. There was no reply, much in the same way there is no reply if you phone a takeaway restaurant on a night when they’re not open. She tutted under her breath, making the same noise as a bubble popping on the surface of a thick tomato and basil sauce which has been brought to the boil.
I’m terribly sorry, you’ll have to excuse me.

8 comments:

  1. "...as silent as refrigerated milk". You just made the language richer.

    ReplyDelete
  2. My favorite yet.
    And, now I am hungry.

    ReplyDelete
  3. Ditto on the "silent as refrigerated milk." A very poetic turn of phrase...I love it!

    ReplyDelete
  4. I love these. Your pieces are so clever and they always make me laugh. Thank you.

    ReplyDelete
  5. Most satisfying. I completely devoured this.

    ReplyDelete
  6. This is a truly delectable piece of writing.

    ReplyDelete
  7. So does that imply that non-refrigerated milk is noisy?

    ReplyDelete
  8. @C12VT: Just give it long enough, and yeah, it will be.

    Try it sometime! You'll get yogurt or the miracle of life.

    ReplyDelete