A door slammed. The bell rang.
A shot was fired.
Emily Heil entered the
Forbidden Kitchen.
She came looking for
a vial of salt distilled
from peacock tears.
It was foolhardy.
But food reporters
for the Washington Post
are often temerarious.
Not to mention wortcunning.
(Had Emily been writing
this particular squib
she would not use
such words as 'temerarious'
or wortcunning --
rightly believing they
are pretentious.)
A gargoyle guarded
the salt cellar.
Our heroine boldly
approached it.
"You must answer
my question
in order to enter"
said the ugly creature.
"Did Mama Cass die from
choking on a ham sandwich?"
it asked.
"She died in her sleep"
replied Emily.
"Pass!" cried the crestfallen
gargoyle.
And the rest of the story
appears in our Sunday
Supplement.
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