57 flavours dream

The ketchup and relish and mustard and vinegar with salt and pepper all in a clever basket to help me coat my food with delicious sauces and fragrants and deliciousness mcdoodle. But what would happen if they fall apart, away from each other and against each other and definitely violence would consume what we thought as condiments. The war of the seasonings. The battle of Heinz and Mercury and Venus. And all the 57 flavours. Just imagine if we all put the sauces together and dip our French fries in it. The war of the worlds no doubt. But what if these objects could move. Could talk. Could feel. What would happen then? Would there be an unjust realm of being stuck behind the machine with nothing to talk about? The machine bleeds as I type but that’s another story which I rather not talk about right now. So, now, we have condiments and, we have a conflict. Vinegar splashed malt on the ketchup and mustard snorted a line of salt while pepper made relish sneeze ever so often. All of them laugh together because they are situated in the same clever basket day in and day out. Never seeing any light of day, new people touching them all the time and making a mess of them while never caring. Someone else will clean them up, says these people, these people. People everywhere touching them. Germs but not quite. Feelings that do not exist. Inanimate objects cannot feel, can they? They can battle each other though, when the customers leave and the lights are turned off. They battle almost every night and the winner is usually the one who falls off the counter first. Weird no that the last person to fall off is not deemed the victor, but the floor is sticky and wet and upswept and no one really wants to be the first off because they would be stuck there until the morning when the wet nurse, well waitress, comes and cleans the floor, all the shit off of it, the bottle of blank and blank, it’s different every night. 

When will this battle begin, you ask? Well it has already started. The bus boy left all the dishes in the sink and now, the party begins." Engarde and excursion you merciful fiends," boasts the ketchup. And they all jump out of the clever basket and they run and jump and duck and glide. The ketchup has an epee, French, for lunging and attacking at close quarters like a runaway fencer. Mustard, oh mustard, he is equipped with a Canadian Pocket Knife, not a Swiss, because Canadian pocket knives are sharper and can pierce through glass if forced hard enough. Salt and pepper both have BB guns but mustard’s knife can cut through them like sugar and cream, so they need the extra zinga to fend for themselves. And finally, relish, relish, has a big fat sabre, slashing and dashing and crashing and fashing. And they all jump out of the clever basket and the game is on. Oh wait but we almost forgot about vinegar. Vinegar has the bow and arrow and to make it even worse, every arrow that he (or she, I guess) is dipped in the vinegar which shoots it. The entire arrow is dipped and it can pierce any object delicately and gently dipped in the malt. So to be fair, vinegar has the best advantage since anything can really happen at a distance, but he won’t win tonight, I’m just saying that now. I would rather suggest that the winner of this event is lucky since it lost last night in a brutal match where the victor also jumped off the table and the wet nurse picked them both up. And to complete the stuttering final thought, let the games begin.