Saveur of the Hedgehogs

M.T. Fallon



In spite of all that you have said, Antoine, I am still inclined to believe the hedgehog theory of lunar craters. Yes, I am aware that they have no scientific literature per se, but don't forget they've spent millennia gazing up at that stinking orb of cheese, Antoine, so when I sit in the grass by the hedge and they tell me that once upon a time the moons of the moon crashed into its unblemished surface, well, Antoine, I believe them. And don't look at me like that, I am not mad, I said, taking a sip of wingchair.

Education, yes, Antoine, I have an education, it was given to me, of course. I would not be the person I am without my education, although I can't say I have ever really known what to do with it. Cui bono, I often ask myself, because it's certainly not me. True, I know how to make myself useful, although I can never remember exactly why I would want to be useful, so I do have my doubts about education, Antoine, but that is not to say I am mad, I said, milking the shih tzu.

Roasting hedgehogs in clay, I said to Antoine, is the best preparation. You cover them before you put them in the oven, preferably using a local clay, clay from the hedgehog burrow, if available. During the roast, the clay hardens about the quills, and once you take it out of the oven and crack the hardened crust, the quills come right off, leaving just the meat and bones. It's the only way to eat them. Yes, I have had porcupine prepared this way, but porcupines are so large you need thirty pounds of clay, not to mention a gargantuan oven, so porcupine is really more of a celebratory meal, a meal for an extended family or perhaps the members of a hunting party. Also, the meat can be quite gamey, I said, boiling the ice cubes.

No, Antoine, I am not mad, I said, stropping my cuspids, I invited you to lunch firstly to say hello, and thirdly I wanted to talk to you about dollar cost averaging. What's that, you say, well, instead of investing with a lump sum, you take a position with small investments spread across a period of time. Don't roll your eyes at me, Antoine, alright, now I really am mad, I said, slicing a kiss off his lips.





M.T. Fallon is an office worker in the United States of America. Recent fiction in Avatar Review, New York Tyrant, Unsaid, and Wigleaf.