It was a quiet afternoon in the suburbs of London, but Bertie Wooster was in a storm. On the table in front of him lay something that would make even the most well-off of men shiver: Aunt Agatha’s “special” fruit pudding.
Bertie looked longingly at his loyal servant, Jeeves.
“Jeeves! Do you think if I threw this out the window, it would bounce back on the ground?” Bertie asked with a groan.
“Sir, I think it’s so dense that it could probably burrow through the ground and fly straight to Australia,” Jeeves replied with his characteristic seriousness.
The problem was that Aunt Agatha—who, according to Bertie, was a woman who could have breakfast with sharks—was about to enter the room. She believed Bertie needed a “healthy” diet.
Suddenly the door opened and Aunt Agatha entered the room like a terrifying ship.
“Bertie! You haven’t finished your plate yet? It’s the best for your bones!” she roared.
Bertie’s complexion turned pale. She had just picked up a spoon when suddenly there was the sound of someone falling and a dog barking outside. Aunt Agatha immediately rushed to the window.
Only five seconds remained. Jeeves picked up the plate with great skill and overturned it into a large vase nearby, and then just as quickly placed the empty plate in front of Bertie.
When Aunt Agatha turned back, Bertie was licking his fingers contentedly.
“I’m surprised Bertie! You finished it so quickly?” Auntie looked at her suspiciously.
“Auntie, it tasted so… ‘unique’ that I couldn’t help myself,” Bertie lied with a smile.
When Auntie left in the evening, Bertie breathed a sigh of relief. But then he remembered that the vase had been filled with his aunt’s favourite flowers.
“Jews! Those flowers must have been crushed to death by the weight of that pudding by now?”
“Sir,” said Jeeves, relieved, “I have already changed the vase. That pudding is now in the bowl of your neighbour, Mr. Glassop’s dog. But don’t worry, he is a bulldog, and has a habit of digesting iron.”
Bertie lay back in his chair. “Jews, you really are a genius!”
