Excerpt from The Reluctant Fundamentalist
Simple indeed. I glanced about me to see how my fellow trainees were responding. There were five of them, in addition to myself, and four sat rigidly at attention; the fifth, a chap called Wainwright, was more relaxed. Twirling his pen between his fingers in a fashion reminiscent of Val Kilmer in Top Gun, he leaned towards me and whispered, "No points for second place, Maverick.""You're dangerous, Ice Man," I replied---attempting to approximate a naval aviator's drawl---and the two of us exchanged a grin.
Messy of course. I look around the table to see how my family was reacting. There were 6 of them, excluding myself, and 5 of them held back gags at the taste of the food; the sixth, a sarcastic guy i call my brother was more amused. Pushing his food around with a fork resembling a kid who doesn't want to eat his vegetables vegetables he leaned back in his chair and said, "This food is just remarkable, Meg.""You're a great assistant chef, Dylan," I replied---attempting to pass on the blame---and the two of us watched the disaster at hand.
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