The Peculiar Sausage

Jenny Cockle looked at the peculiar sausage in her hands and felt sneezy.

She walked over to the window and reflected on her deprived surroundings. She had always loved magical Skegness with its poised, poor parks. It was a place that encouraged her tendency to feel sneezy.

Then she saw something in the distance, or rather someone. It was the figure of Will Gloop. Will was a helpful wally with spiky thighs and grubby eyes.

Jenny gulped. She glanced at her own reflection. She was a thoughtless, forgetful, whiskey drinker with curvy thighs and red eyes. Her friends saw her as a grim, good giant. Once, she had even helped a filthy toddler recover from a flying accident.

But not even a thoughtless person who had once helped a filthy toddler recover from a flying accident, was prepared for what Will had in store today.

The hail pounded like bouncing hamsters, making Jenny calm.

As Jenny stepped outside and Will came closer, she could see the bitter glint in his eye.

“Look Jenny,” growled Will, with a stingy glare that reminded Jenny of helpful flamingos. “It’s not that I don’t love you, but I want a pencil. You owe me 206 euros.”

Jenny looked back, even more calm and still fingering the peculiar sausage. “Will, yabba Dabba Doo,” she replied.

They looked at each other with stable feelings, like two lively, large lizards shouting at a very controlling carol service, which had flute music playing in the background and two cowardly uncles running to the beat.

Suddenly, Will lunged forward and tried to punch Jenny in the face. Quickly, Jenny grabbed the peculiar sausage and brought it down on Will’s skull.

Will’s spiky thighs trembled and his grubby eyes wobbled. He looked cross, his wallet raw like a good, grim guillotine.

Then he let out an agonising groan and collapsed onto the ground. Moments later Will Gloop was dead.

Jenny Cockle went back inside and made herself a nice glass of whiskey.

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