Monday, October 11, 2010

Hutton's Sausage

Outside their factory in New Zealand, these sausages—forgive us, these sizzlers, as the ID label indicates—are demonstrating true dedication to an ideal.

Hunkering down in a giant frying pan, they beam, they wink to passers-by.

(Or, at least, we think they're winking. Could that be the gleam from their monocles, instead?)

One throws his arm around his brother, who is slowly, deliciously rendered, converting himself into his elemental essence. Thus, the sausages reenact the seasonless cycle of life death.

(Thanks to Dr. Michael for the referral and photo.)

3 comments:

stantoro said...

What's going on here? One is clearly a sausage, the other a misshapen blob. Potato? Misshapen sausage? Someone help me.

Funnyguts said...

I think the one on the right is a California Raisin that's lost his mind.

Ben said...

People, people! It's just a sausage caught in the act of becoming.