Packages

This afternoon, the doorbell rang. When the Fry Cook opened the door, he found the Fed Ex man waiting. All day, we had been hoping for a "package" and here it was.

As the Fry Cook signed for one kind of package, the Fed Ex guy leaned his other package into the house. "Wow, it sure smells good in there."
"Thanks," the Fry Cook said. I laughed as I sat on the computer, with Ugly Fat Kid still in the highchair, falling asleep.
"Is that some funky sausage you have going?" he looked in, obviously yearning.
"No, that's mah wife. She's a little rank this time of the...well, nevermind. " (We would have given some if there had been anything that still had feeling in it.)

"Well, damn. Can I get summa that?" the guy asked, perplexed.
"There was chorizo involved," the Fry Cook told him.
"Oh. Wow." He shook his head as he walked down the steps.

Oh, sausage. You make me sigh too. Plump and juicy, the best of pork-smellin' man condensed, you inspire me every time I smell you to run toward the downstairs bathroom. Sausage, I will never be over you.