They're hungry, and hunger is just about the only thing that can shut them up for a moment. They clap when I bring in the fries, then fall into devout silence to taste them. They're burning hot, crisp outside, soft inside, and slightly disturbing, because they're not evenly cut and don't come from the freezer. Are they OK, nonetheless? Was that an unambiguous OK? They're delicious? Oof, I passed the test. Now I have to gird myself for a silent duel with Monkey. He stares at me and I stare back. Will he, won't he? He's still not sure. He looks at me and nods. I concede the match.
"Yes, I've got some."
[Dear Reader, Fournel, P.]
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