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