Starsky was stuck in a traffic jam. He wiped the sweat off his face. He would
be late for Hutch’s birthday party.
Finally, he arrived at Hutch’s cottage and knocked, carefully holding a
“The later the evening, the sweeter the guests.” Hutch opened, a
beer in his hand.
“How do you know?” Starsky countered, unwrapping his present: a guitar,
made of chocolate.
Expectantly, he opened the box – and froze. The guitar had become the shape
of a shrunk pear, due to the heat.
Hutch looked puzzled, then he smiled. “Thank you, buddy! It’s wonderful,
and so are you.”
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