Friday Fictioneers
100 words
John ambled into the kitchen. “What’s cooking?”
“Mushroom gravy.” Mary kept stirring.
John frowned. “Toadstools. Fungi. Dorothy Sayers killed someone with Amanita.“
“These are morels.” She added salt. “Everybody eats mushrooms.”
“I don’t.”
“Suit yourself.”
He sat down. “Where’d you buy them?”
“I picked them.”
“You?“
“Aunt Helen helped. She knows ‘shrooms.” Mary held out a spoonful. “Taste.”
“Well . . . ” John tasted. “Mmmm. Seconds?”
“Yoo-hoo.” Aunt Helen bustled in. “Like my new glasses? Those old ones–I couldn’t see doodly squat.”
Mary looked at the gravy, then at John. “Maybe you should spit that out,” she said.

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