About midnight out of nowhere Pete’s best friend Eddie hauled up out of his chair like a zombie back from the grave, sprinted naked across the lawn, and hurtled himself in cannonball into the middle of the swimming pool, which was filled with about 24,000 gallons of crème brulée in honor of Pete’s engagement to Shelly who Eddie had never warmed to. The screams from the guests drowned out Pete’s completely unhostly “Fuck!” as a scene crossed his mind of his best friend drowning in egg, milk, and imitation vanilla. But the crème saved Eddie. … Continue reading Creme Brulée by Sara Anne Donnelly →