The Caldrons of Hoisin (and other tales)

The giant feast has been laid before me. Big steaming bowls of noodles and meat. Hot plates of mixed vegetables and little fried delicacies. I’m sitting there grinning, happy as a hog, mopping up big pools of hoisin sauce with bread - stuffing it all into my slobbering gob.
The hostess stares in amazement as I devour my kingly meal. I stare back at her without blinking.  Dip, chomp, slurp, gulp... munch.
Once satiated, I have the waiter dim the lights - and in that near perfect dark, I raise my glass of port and share a toast with your ghost. Cause it’s all I want to do – and it’s all I ever talk about doing these days anyway. At least since the sun-flesh laid waste to what was left of your lunatic heart.