#58 Just Dessert

by Jude Bridge

The Orange and Blueberry Surprise quivered, unsettled, on the plate.

“She’s gonna blow,” shouted Dad.

She blew.

A shard of frozen deconstructed chocolate sauce lodged in little Billy’s forehead.

“I should never have attempted such a complicated dessert without professional supervision,” wailed Mum.

Dad pressed hot blueberries against Billy’s wound to staunch the blood flow.

The Emergency Response Pudding Team arrived, spatulas blazing. The family was ushered into a heavily fortified catering van as the Chefs tentatively entered the Disaster Zone. The remainder of the sweet nightmare pulsed on the floor, the freezing icecream, engorged fruit, defribulated egg and thrice-cooked sugar crystals fighting for supremacy.

“Fucking amateurs,” snarled a Sous Chef. “Should have invested in some measuring utensils.”

“Stand back,” said the Head Chef. “Someone get me a bucket of hot water and some clean towels.”

He gently lowered himself onto his back, watching the Surprise remnants sucking themselves to a point. Like a reverse soufflé, the confection was concentrating its energy inwards, preparing for the final blast. The Chef inched towards the dessert, tongs slippery in his sweaty hand. The same hand that bore the bloody scars from a spiteful Chocolate Mousse incident yesterday. Swiftly, he connected a sliver of orange to a swollen blueberry. They ignited, exploded and demolished the house, leaving behind a hot, sugary sinkhole into which the entire Pudding Team disappeared.

“Next time I’ll make a fruitcake,” laughed Mum, as bits of Chef rained down on the van roof.