Monday, January 23, 2012

I Never Sausage A Thing!


[NOTE: This might be sorta NSFC (Not Safe For Church)]

Just a little something from the “All My Friends Are Going To Hell” files …

A couple of weeks ago, a few friends and I drove up to the lovely town of McCall, Idaho (home of the McCall Winter Carnival, featuring the Monster Dog Pull and the Snowshoe Golf Tournament), for a day of skiing and a couple of nights of drunken debauchery baking cookies for orphans.  Sometimes a little break from the high-stress life of being an anonymous governmental bureaucratic number-crunching pencil-pusher is needed, doncha know.

The friend that I drove up with is a Sister in the local convent, which explains why she has a plastic Jesus on her dashboard with a mirror in his belly and the words “Look Good For Jesus” inscribed at his feet.  It’s very tasteful:

Above:  The can had been discarded at the side of the road by litterbugs, so we transported it to the nearest recycling bin.  Keep Idaho Beautiful!

Anyway, we had a wonderful Friday night and a great day of skiing Saturday, and gathered at the home of a friend who lives there that evening for enchiladas, all sorts of homemade elk sausages, cheap tequila, and riveting discussion on the folly of the austerity measures being enacted on the continent.  A magical time all 'round.

Eventually, the revelry wound down, and a few friends who were staying at a nearby cabin borrowed the car that we drove up in to get back there, giving assurances that they would be back bright and early Sunday morning with multiple vehicles.  They were, and we had a nice chat arguing what constitutes “planethood” (Dear International Astronomical Union:  Your momma thought I was big enough!  Sincerely, Pluto.) before deciding to head back to the Big City.  I thought it a bit odd that the friends who stayed in the cabin were so giggly as we departed, but they’re giggly people in general, so I didn’t dwell on it.  But then we got in the car …

… and found this:

Above:  I don’t care if it rains or freezes, long as I got my sausage Jesus, riding on the dashboard of my car …

It’s going to be lonely in Heaven, what with all my friends being down in Hell and all.  I later asked one of them where they got a raw bratwurst, to which she responded “Oh, Sheila-JoMarie* had it in her pocket.”  Yes … yes, of course she did.  That makes perfect sense.

Sausage Jesus made the entire trip back sporting his new headware, and I suspect that the holy bratwurst has been preserved and will be resurrected sometime in the future for a bit of revenge tomfoolery.  I did get an update on the state of Plastic Jesus the next day:  “Well, the dishwasher wasn’t enough to wash the blood off of Christ, so I had to give him a sponge-bath.”

That’s Ninth Circle material right there.

Not her real name … nobody is really named Sheila-JoMarie.  That would be ridiculous.

9 comments:

JesusFreak said...

I am happy to report that Jesus is as good as new after his sponge bath. I was a little worried he was going to be left with a some follicle discoloration but the natural oils from the sausage really brought out a luster not previously achieved.

The Bug said...

Oh my word. It's a wonder I didn't injure myself trying to laugh silently because I was reading this at work. I have a number of people I need to share this with - but I'll give them a warning ahead of time!

Anonymous said...

I always had a feeling Jesus liked the sausage...

Niamh B said...

she nearly should be called Sheila-Jomarie - just as punishment!

The Dead Acorn said...

JesusFreak: who'da thunk Jesus' hair could get any better? Woo!

Bug - I'm not sure if sharing this will play into final judgement or not, so do it at your own risk ... but thanks!

Anonymous ... wow. Just ... wow.

Niamh - she's implicated in the snowman squashing as well. Sheila-JoMarie she is!

Sarah said...

Sheila-Jomarie was not involved in the snowman squashing. She doesn't giggle enough.

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