A Saturday afternoon, backyard barbeque, turned scandalous as word that both Becky Ketchup, a full figured, picnic sized ketchup bottle and Chrissy Mustard, a petite, gourmet mustard bottle, were totally in love with the same hot dog!
The hot dog in question is Bobby Meat, a foot long, girthy, tube of horse meat, whose length is matched only by his beauty. Since his arrival in the refrigerator the night before, Bobby has had all the condiments talking.
“Jesus, look at the length on that boy,” said Wanda Mayo, a bottle of mayonnaise who’s been living in the side shelf of the refrigerator for almost two years. “In my younger days I would have squeezed myself all over that. I wish I wasn’t so close to my expiration date.”
“Mmmmmm, is all I can say,” said Felisha Relish, a glass jar of sweet pickle relish, currently living in the back part of the fridge’s second shelf. “Spoon me on top of that monster and call me delicious.”
Despite the talk, it was clear that the two condiments who would most likely have a chance to slather themselves all over Bobby’s considerable dimensions were Becky and Chrissy.
Becky, one of the most popular condiments in the fridge, had her eyes on Bobby from the moment she saw him. “Like, Bobby is so cute, I totally can’t wait to crawl inside a bun with him. He is so cool. That bitch Chrissy better just stay clear.”
“If Becky thinks that Bobby is hers then she’s got another thing coming,” said Chrissy as she lovingly stared at Bobby from the top shelf of the fridge. “Just look at him, he’s so perfect, I’ll bet he’s super sensitive and smart. There’s no way he’s going to like a condiment like Becky. She’s a little too, eager to squeeze, if you know what I mean.”
“Chrissy is just jealous because I get most of the meat that comes through here. I mean her last boyfriend was a potato salad. OMG gross! I know what guys like Bobby want. They want a condiment that knows what she’s doing. I’ll bet he’s so good in the bun.”
“Oh please, Becky has spread herself on more meat than the steak sauce. Bobby doesn’t want that. He’s looking for a condiment that’s more than just sugar and tomatoes. I’ll bet he’s going to have rock hard grill marks.”
As the barbeque was fired up and Bobby was placed on the grill, the smell of his lengthy, plump, shaft of meat filled the air and drove the drama to a boiling point.
At the condiment table, two rival groups emerged, Team Becky and Team Chrissy. Flanked by her mean condiment co-horts, Wanda Mayo, Jennifer Steak Sauce and Amanda Horseradish, Becky started down Chrissy and her crew, consisting of Felisha Relish, Sandra Soy Sauce and Tina Tartar. The insults began to fly.
“Bobby is mine you skinny, yellow bitch.”
“You better not touch Bobby, I wouldn’t want him to catch a disease!”
“The only thing that’s being caught is my bouquet, by you, at Bobby and I’s wedding!”
“Becky you are such a cocktail sauce!”
And there it was, Chrissy had called Becky the C word. A hush fell over the condiment table. Becky looked stunned while Chrissy maintained an angry glare. Despite the utterance of the most insulting word in the condiment lexicon, all the anger and jealousy fell away the moment Bobby, fully cooked, was placed inside a warm bun and brought over to the condiment table. Suddenly every condiment wanted a piece of the twelve inch, perfectly grilled, gargantuan stretch of meat.
A sampling of every single condiment on the table was slathered on top of Bobby. Even Wanda got in on the action. It was an orgy of deliciousness.
Later that night the condiments were placed back in the fridge, with the exception of Wanda, who was thrown away.
“I’m like, so sad,” said Becky, “I just wanted him for myself.”
“I don’t know what to think,” said Chrissy, “I never thought I would climb into the bun with another condiment, let alone seven, I feel dirty.”
“I definitely saw more of Chrissy than I cared to,” said Becky.
“The fridge is so awkward now,” said Chrissy, “Oh well, at least the light is off when the door is closed. I can’t look anyone in the eye. I’m too embarrassed.”
“I had a lot of fun,” said Jennifer.
Two weeks later a two-pound hamburger named Big John was placed on the bottom shelf and the drama started all over again.