Adam was at the barbecue and Robbo was at the barbecue and I was at the
barbecue; three men standing around a barbecue, sipping beer, staring
at sausages, rolling them backwards and forwards, never leaving them
alone. We didn't know why we were at the barbecue; we were just drawn
there like moths to a flame. The barbecue was a powerful gravitational
force, a man-magnet.
Robbo said the thin ones could use a turn, I said yeah I reckon the
thin ones could use a turn, Adam said yeah they really need a turn it
was a unanimous turning decision. Adam was the Tong-Master, a true
artist, he gave a couple of practice snaps of his long silver tongs,
SNAP SNAP, before moving in, prodding, teasing, and with an elegant
flick of his wrist, rolling them onto their little backs. A lesser
tong-man would've flicked too hard; the sausages would've gone full
circle, back to where they started. Nice, I said. The others went yeah.
Fergus was passing us, he heard the siren-song- sizzle of the snags,
the barbecue was calling, beckoning, Fergusssss …come. He stuck his
head in and said any room? We said yeah and began the barbecue shuffle;
Adam shuffled to the left, Robbo shuffled to the left, I shuffled to
the left, Fergus slipped in beside me, we sipped our beer. Now there
were four of us staring at sausages, and Adam gave me the nod, my cue.
I was second-in-command, and I had to take the raw sausages out of the
plastic bag and lay them on the barbecue; not too close together, not
too far apart, curl them into each other's bodies like lovers -fat
ones, thin ones, herbed and continental. The chipolatas were tiny, they
could easily slip down between the grill, falling into the molten
hot-bead-netherworld below. Carefully I laid them sideways ACROSS the
grill, clever thinking. Adam snapped his tongs with approval; there was
no greater barbecue honour.
Sleighty came along, he said looking good, looking good -the
irresistible lure of the barbecue had pulled him in too. We said yeah
and did the shuffle, left, left, left, left, he slipped in beside
Fergus, we sipped our beer. Five men, lots of sausages. Robbo was the
Fork-pronger; he had the fork that pronged the tough hides of the
Bavarian bratwursts and he showed a lot of promise. Stabbing away
eagerly, leaving perfect little vampire holes up and down the casing.
Sleighty was shaking his head, he said I they cook better if you don't
poke them. There was a long silence, you could have heard a chipolata
drop, and this newcomer was a rabble-rouser, bringing in his crazy
ideas from outside. He didn't understand the hierarchy; first the
Tong-master, then the Sausage-layer, then the Fork-pronger -and
everyone below was just a watcher.Maybe eventually they'll move up the
ladder, but for now - don't rock the Weber.
Linda popped her head in; hmmm, smells good, she said. She was trying
to jostle into the circle; we closed ranks, pulling our heads down and
our shoulders in, mumbling yeah yeah yeah, but making no room for her.
She was keen, going round to the far side of the barbecue, heading for
the only available space . . . the gap in the circle where all the
smoke and ashes blew. Nobody could survive the gap; Linda was going to
try. She stood there stubbornly, smoke blinding her eyes, ashes filling
her nostrils, sausage fat spattering all over her arms and face. Until
she couldn't take it anymore, she gave up and backed off.
Fergus waited till she was gone and sipped his beer. We sipped our
beer, yeah. Adam handed me his tongs. I looked at him and he nodded. I
knew what was happening, I'd waited a long time for this moment - the
abdication. The tongs weighed heavy in my hands, firm in my grip - was
I ready for the responsibility? Yes, I was. I held them up high and
they glinted in the sun. Don't forget to turn the thin ones Adam said
as he walked away from the barbecue, disappearing toward the house.
Yeah I called back, I will, I will. I snapped them twice, SNAP SNAP,
before moving in, prodding, teasing, and with an elegant flick of my
wrist, rolling them back onto their little bellies.
I was a natural, I was the TONG-MASTER. But only until Adam got back from the toilet.
Attribution: unknown
