“Can I?” Epi asked. The butcher nodded and held it closer. Epi slapped the plump rump of the haggis. It was firm. Ripe. Ready for him. “I’ll take it.” He got a far-away look as the butcher weighed and wrapped the greasy lump. He barely noticed the price, numbly handing over notes that meant nothing from his wallet.
“Have you ever cooked one of these, lad?” asked the butcher, “You need instructions?”
Epi stumbled out into the street without hearing a word.