traditional sausage supper

Post-breakfast bliss in the PaliSchmutz household.

Palinode: That was a good breakfast.

Schmutzie: For supper I'm going to cook those sausages from the Italian Star Deli.

Palinode: In that case, I want a traditional Sunday sausage supper. I want to pull out, all the stops.

Schmutzie: Um. Okay.

Palinode: First we clear out all the furniture from the living room. Then we kick off with a prayer to St. Barbara.

Schmutzie: A sausage prayer?

Palinode: She's the patron saint of a nice bit of sausage.

Schmutzie: That kind of makes her sound like a slut.

Palinode: How dare you.

Schmutzie: Or a hermaphrodite.

Palinode: It's been rumoured. Immediately after the prayer, we don the wooden hats -

Schmutzie: No!

Palinode: No?

Schmutzie: We don't have any wooden hats!

Palinode: You didn't pick up the wooden hats with the sausage? Okay then, we can make some paper hats. I guess.

Schmutzie: I can live with paper hats.

Palinode: Then we retrieve the special cutlery, which are known as a fork and a knife.

Schmutzie: That's special to you?

Palinode: The tradition stems from medieval times, when forks and knives were pretty special. Serfs would murder a nobleman and steal his cutlery for their sausage supper.

Schmutzie: We're running pretty low on noblemen around here.

Palinode: That's why we murder homeless people now and place the cutlery on their bodies. It's all symbolic nowadays. And then we tuck in for a nice bit of sausage.

Schmutzie: That makes more sense.

Palinode: I can't help but notice that you're okay with murdering a bum, but you get upset over wooden hats.

Schmutzie: I don't care what we do, so long as we don't have to wear hats made of wood.