A Winter Weenie Roast

[Kasmandre]

A rather pleasant day in the Pen's courtyard is promptly interrupted by a rather large something falling out of the sky and creating a moderately-sized crater in the snowy ground. The few brave souls who approach the crater notice that the object that had fallen out of the sky is an unusually large potato. As if this isn't odd enough, a moment later, a hatch opens on the side of the over-sized vegetable and a man climbs out, dragging several cardboard boxes behind him.

 

This man is every bit as odd as his transportation. Dressed in blue-orange-and-crimson Bermuda shorts, a sweatshirt advertising "Last Chance Life Insurance" and golf cleats of two different sizes, he tucks his black and white streaked hair into a hairnet and puts on a pair of safety goggles. Seemingly oblivious to the odd stares the growing crowd is giving him, the man waves and says to the crowd, "Don't worry, I'll be set up in just a second!" Out of the cardboard boxes, he pulls a rickety looking table, a steam-powered grill, and a crank-operated sausage-maker. Next he pulls out a large piece of wood and a squid. Squeezing the squid slightly to get the ink going, the man uses it to write a sign stating:

 

Crazy Bill Scranton's Weenee Roast

Free Sampels Avalable

Kwalitie Ingratients Used

 

The last part of his sign is belied by the odd conglomeration of objects that Crazy Bill is now piling on the table. Things that are actually edible seem to be in the minority while footwear, bicycle parts, works of art, and other unusual ingredients are a little more prevalent. As a final touch, he dons an apron proclaiming "Do not lynch the chef"

 

Crazy Bill looks at the crowd with a smile and begins tossing ingredients into the sausage-maker. His writing-squid, a chunk of brimstone, three mismatched socks, and a sewing kit disappear into the top. Then the odd little chef begins turning the crank, squeezing a very normal-looking weenie out the other side. After tossing it onto the grill just long enough to char one side of it, Crazy Bill sticks it in a bun and hands it to an unsuspecting bystander. The hot dog promtly sprouts a dozen tentacles through the bun and opens a mouth filled with needle-sharp teeth. The unfortunate customer drops the demonic hot dog and runs away as quickly as possible, closely pursued by his weenie, which is now breathing fire stinking of brimstone and dirty socks. Crazy Bill watches the pair flee into the distance with a smile of quiet pride on his face. Turning back to the shocked crowd, he says, "The line for refunds will begin to the left of the weenie-line. Next!"

[Gyrfalcon]

Kasmandre slowly began to back away, hoping the silent, inconspicuous movements would keep him from the attentions of Crazy Bill. Unfortunately, the Bermuda-wearing weenie toaster happened to turn around just as Kasmandre took a small step forward to get around Daryl, who’s huddling at the edge of the crowd and trying to back his way through a few people’s legs.

 

“Ah, good man!” Crazy Bill said brightly as he grabbed Kasmandre and dragged him forward to stand next to the grill. “One Weenie, coming right up!” he said, snatching this and that at random, before reaching forward and grasping the air next to Kasmandre and pulling back sharply. Kasmandre felt the loss of... something, even as he watched Crazy Bill dump the handful of ‘air’ into the sausage maker with everything else and begin to turn the handle quickly. A weenie came out of the other end, and Crazy Bill quickly speared and toasted it before placing it in a bun, adding some relish and handing the assembly to Kasmandre.

 

Kasmandre stared at the Weenie suspiciously, willing to chuck it into the crowd and make a run the other way if it showed even the least sign of motion, intelligence, or sudden explosiveness. None of these occured, and finally with a frown, Kasmandre brought the roasted weenie closer and nibbled on it.

 

It was perhaps the definition of a perfect weenie, roasted just right and with a rich flavor that could be tracked down to identifiable species that were normally considered sources of meat. With a grin, Kasmandre wandered away, munching on his Weenie. Behind him, Crazy Bill shook his head in consternation... it wasn’t often he made a bad weenie, but it happened every so often.

 

“Next!” he shouted, shaking the thought of failure from his mind.

 

OOC:

 

Congratulations, Kasmandre, you’ll notice a lack of Weenie-ness around your title, now that you’ve eaten it.