Monday, May 11, 2009

Julius LeBlanc Stewart At Home

Julius LeBlanc Stewart At HomeTitian Sacred and Profane LoveFrancisco de Goya The ParasolBartolome Esteban Murillo Madonna and Child
stomach, although it could probably cause one. Albert could make an egg wish it had never been laid.
'Haven't you got any muesli?' she said.
'Is that some kind of sausage?' said Albert suspiciously.
'It's nuts and grains.'
'Any fat in it?'
'Hah, boiling's no good, it don't kill off all the germs.'
'BOIL ME AN EGG, ALBERT.'
As the echoes bounced across and died away, Susan wondered where the voice had come from.
Albert's ladle tinkled on the tiles.
'Please?' said Susan.
'You did the voice,' said Albert.'I don't think so.''How're you supposed to fry it, then?''You don't fry it.''You call that breakfast?''It doesn't have to be fried to be breakfast,' said Susan. 'I mean, you mentioned porridge, and you don't fry porridge–’'Who says?''A boiled egg, then?'

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