Erica was always one to surprise, so it was not unusual when her latest dinner party began with a salad made entirely of flower petals.
“It’s so pretty!” declared Erin.
“You’ve certainly exceeded all expectations this time,” said Eugene.
“When one dines at one of your dinners, “said Emile, “we can always expect to be surprised.”
Every guest, though daring, was a little tentative.
“Delicious!” expounded Evelyn stuffing a gladioli petal into her mouth. One suspected she made her declaration even before her taste buds had time to assimilate the mouth’s contents.
“Oh Erica! The mayonnaise!” glowed Emile. “Perfection!”
“Quite frankly,” said Savannah pushing her plate away, “I’m not a cow. I don’t eat everything I get put in front of me, and I couldn’t possibly stomach having to eat flowers. I have evolved a little further than being a muck-raking ruminant.”
Savannah was Emile’s partner. She was the only one at the table who (coincidentally) had a name that didn’t start with the letter E. It was only because of Erica’s largesse that Savannah was invited at all. No one liked her, not even Emile. Their relationship was one of convenience – whatever that meant. No one cared to ask.
“I don’t eat crap,” scorned Savanah. “I won’t touch this pile of disguised weeds.”
It was a pity because Erica had gone to considerable trouble to lace Savannah’s salad flowers with Poison Oak.