Food Fit for Kings
If you eat so much as a bite you cannot go back. They have heated the milk by putting halogen lightbulbs in the glasses until it boils. Electric wires run along the table like garlands, splitting and coiling around bowls and plates. Two grinning hogs’ heads sewn together at the neck. There are things that move in the rice pudding. There is a bowl of what looks to be crushed red ice; it is the feeling of drowning. When someone touches the plate of diced onions, you think someone is brushing by you.
People are staring at you, politely, expectantly.
Delicious! When can I book a chair?
You can only get there by stripping and eating the bark — the whole bark, mind — of a willow tree that grows at the fork of a river. This will make you ill. Puke right where the river splits and find yourself transported to a certain smörgåsbord.
Wunderbar. Sounds doable. Excuse me, I’m just going to find a suitable river.