I’m on a grill, enjoying the heat. I’ve never been cooked before. My entire life after conception has happened entirely in a refrigerated zone from Beef Patty University to the truck and then the case. I guess I wasn’t refrigerated when I came to this place lousy with strange looking people. One I’ll call Oily. He snivels around sucking up to the big boss, BB. BB has some ridiculous name and his daughter’s is worse if it could be worse when it sounds almost exactly like BB’s name.
“Triple D, how much yous want me to cook this thing?” Oily has the worse nasally voice. I am curious as to how long I’m to be cooked.
I’d have to say the worst was that dippy large dog. It had a really long face with giant nostrils, ears on top of its head, hair along its neck and a super long tail. It kept eating grass. What kind of dog keeps eating grass? I really have no choice but to call it Grassy. It doesn’t bark like a dog should bark either. It just stands around, tied up to a post eating grass with the daughter making moony eyes at it.
“A minute longer but you have to put the hot sauce, nacho cheese and egg salad on it.” Gross, wow BB has terrible taste. I know people are supposed to have a hamburger whatever way they want but there are rules, rules.
“I thought yous said no more egg salad on hot days, Triple D.”
“Daddums, you’re trying the egg salad, right?” Moony, the girl, calls while skipping up to her father. She’s too old to be skipping in my humble opinion. Anyone old enough to read Sherlock Holmes is too old for skipping.
BB rolls his eyes just enough that I notice but no one else seems to as he says, “Yes, Princess.” BB makes a face as well. I feel the same way. Who wants to be violated by egg salad?
“Daddums, I’m going to write my own Sherlock Holmes stories because these,” she shakes the book in her hand, “are kind of boring. I’m going to have Sherlock be super duper handsome and he’s going to have a girlfriend solve mysteries too. In fact she’s going to be smarter than him.”
“Do they have a van and travel around solving mysteries with their friends?” Moony doesn’t hear him say it. I hear him because I’ve got excellent hearing and I’m being remove from the grill now. Oh the egg salad is coming and it makes me shiver.
“Wow, Donatella, that sounds like a good ideer!” There’s Oily sucking up to the silly girl.
“No it’s not,” mumbles the old man. I’m nauseated as a big glob of orange plops on me. Next is the red sauce that burns. I was always told that ketchup is really what these weirdoes should be using. I miss those days at Beef Patty University. I was captain of the football team.
“Oh I’m so excited for you to try it!” Oh Moony, shut up! Oily sticks the spoon in a bowl. My heart races. The sky goes dark. The spoon hovers with its yellow terrifyingness. Oh the humanity!
~Raging and quivering female mass of hormones and tosser of Dark Side Cookies™ (trade marked by Etoile)