In Which Fiction Becomes Fact and Fact Becomes Fiction.

Mary was bringing the dessert and the sushi. As usual, she excelled herself. The sushi was moist and absolutely delicious, and the dessert was to die for. Mascapone cream with a berry jus piled onto a home made shortbread base. Julian had pulled out the steam boat seeing as Mr Lovely Goodness wasn't going to be there. He had told Julian in no uncertain terms to get rid of it. He had said it nicely, but it wasn't his favourite meal.
"Stick to curry," he said, patting her lightly on the head.
So, she would wow the Hiter's and the Woe's with the steamboat. It was such a healthy way of eating was why she liked it. It was light and yet filling, and very, very tasty. Tuesday didn't mind it, and Theodora simply wanted bits of cooked chicken which kept coming out of the stock uncooked and had to be kept putting back in. Nobody minded bits of meat coming out and being put back in.
It was an evening of brutal honesty, which included readings of 'The Man From Snowy River' done in a competitive spirit. Edgar won out through sheer brute force, but parody was the theme and neither Mary or Edgar quite pulled it off.
It was a strange sort of evening. Edgar discussed quite openly about how he wasn't who he appeared to be, and therefore, had no problem with the blog at all. The subject of the blog's deletion had come up, and Julian had confessed to the whole sorry tale. Edgar never read it and never intended to read it, so he had no problems at all. It wasn't him! Mr Lovely Goodness, as we know from previous posts, had felt very strongly that Everyone knew it was him, and this was no good and this stuff had to stop.
"It's not very good, Julian," Mary had said, "but it was very witty. You have lost your audience, and so."
Mary and Julian had differing viewpoints of the genre involved and they were both sticking to their guns.
Julian told of the terrible sighting of young naked people beneath the bridge doing things to each other that no one should have pictures of in their minds after the global carnival, and the furtive, guilty look on the young man's face, glimpsed briefly before Julian was aware of what she was about to walk into. She had changed direction immediately, and been very proud of the dog who hadn't even barked. They had chosen the dog's early morning walking spot for their doings, bless their hearts.
Over all, this particular dinner party had been slightly niggly with delicious tasty foods along with grandin champagne and red wine. Theodora made leggo things, badly wanting Tuesday's really little cool guy with the trumpet, and Theodora eventually left to go and set up a My Space page, which Julian needed, because she only had one friend. Friends, apparently, was what it was all about. Was Mary Hitler still her friend, even after the dessert to end all desserts? The dessert to diet for? She knew that it was so.