If you cook# PhotoGear - 摄影器材
l*s
1 楼
You spot him the moment he walks into the yard. You're cooking your burgers
on the grill. Your guests are relaxed. The music's on. Everything would be
going just fine were it not for the arrival of the interloper. He starts
circling. It's as if he's drawn to your grill by the primal tug of meat and
fire. You see him from the corner of your eye.
The interloper is scrutinizing your sausages. He inches nearer, trying to
look innocent. You're busy. You don't want a conversation, but the
interloper starts asking questions. How long have those burgers been on?
When did you last flip them? The interloper is clever, you see. He can smell
your lack of confidence. Every cook eventually has to desert the grill for
a minute or two.
You need something from the kitchen. The guests are demanding more beer.
That's what the interloper is waiting for. That's when he can launch his
coup. You return and there he is. The interloper is standing behind your
grill. He has your fork. You've become a guest at your own party. The
interloper starts lining up your sausages on your grill.
He divides them into platoons. There are the almost-ready, the intermediates
and the freshmen. He does the same with the shrimp, the burgers and the
chicken kabobs. Through the smoke, you watch his silhouette hunched
possessively over the coals. He's the decider. Woe betide anyone who tries
to fork a sausage before he says so.
on the grill. Your guests are relaxed. The music's on. Everything would be
going just fine were it not for the arrival of the interloper. He starts
circling. It's as if he's drawn to your grill by the primal tug of meat and
fire. You see him from the corner of your eye.
The interloper is scrutinizing your sausages. He inches nearer, trying to
look innocent. You're busy. You don't want a conversation, but the
interloper starts asking questions. How long have those burgers been on?
When did you last flip them? The interloper is clever, you see. He can smell
your lack of confidence. Every cook eventually has to desert the grill for
a minute or two.
You need something from the kitchen. The guests are demanding more beer.
That's what the interloper is waiting for. That's when he can launch his
coup. You return and there he is. The interloper is standing behind your
grill. He has your fork. You've become a guest at your own party. The
interloper starts lining up your sausages on your grill.
He divides them into platoons. There are the almost-ready, the intermediates
and the freshmen. He does the same with the shrimp, the burgers and the
chicken kabobs. Through the smoke, you watch his silhouette hunched
possessively over the coals. He's the decider. Woe betide anyone who tries
to fork a sausage before he says so.
