The Cursed Sausage A Short Story by anonymous coward
jesus christ looked at the cursed sausage in his hands and felt happy.
He walked over to the window and reflected on his cool surroundings. He had always loved beautiful Philippin with its tense, tough trees. It was a place that encouraged his tendency to feel happy.
Then he saw something in the distance, or rather someone. It was the figure of john paul. john was a mean animal with blonde fingernails and fluffy ankles.
jesus gulped. He glanced at his own reflection. He was a stupid, helpful, port drinker with fragile fingernails and pink ankles. His friends saw him as an abundant, adorable academic. Once, he had even made a cup of tea for a broad chicken.
But not even a stupid person who had once made a cup of tea for a broad chicken, was prepared for what john had in store today.
The sleet rained like dancing donkeys, making jesus delighted.
As jesus stepped outside and john came closer, he could see the joyous smile on his face.
john gazed with the affection of 9796 sympathetic plastic puppies. He said, in hushed tones, "I love you and I want closure."
jesus looked back, even more delighted and still fingering the cursed sausage. "john, I beg you," he replied.
They looked at each other with sad feelings, like two flipping, funny flamingos running at a very violent Valentine's meal, which had classical music playing in the background and two tactless uncles smiling to the beat.
jesus regarded john's blonde fingernails and fluffy ankles. "I feel the same way!" revealed jesus with a delighted grin.
john looked angry, his emotions blushing like a grisly, grotesque gun.
Then john came inside for a nice glass of port. THE END