Note: Happy birthday, David Soul!
Tardy
Starsky was stuck in a traffic jam. He wiped the sweat off his face. He would be late for Hutch's birthday party.
Finally, he arrived at Hutch's cottage and knocked, carefully, holding a wrapped box.
"The later the evening, the sweeter the guests." Hutch opened, a beer in his hand.
"How do you know?" Starsky countered, unwrapping his present; a guitar, made of chocolate.
Expectantly, he opened the box – and froze. The guitar had become the shape of a shrunk pear, due to the heat.
Hutch looked puzzled, then he smiled. "Thank you, buddy! It's wonderful, and so are you."