“Like the end of a picnic, all the weenies will be roasted.”
“We had come so close to greatness. We had smelled it, and it smelled like roast pig. Everybody likes the smell of roast pig. But what is worse, smelling the roast and not feasting, or not smelling the roast at all?”
“I tried to say something cool, wound up stammering something like, “WANNA YOU WANNA WEENIE ME?” The end kind of trailed off in a shrill, choking warble.”
“But what is worse, smelling the roast and not feasting, or not smelling the roast at all?”
“Yes, I sounded like a pathetic weenie. I prefer to think of it as showing my softer side.”
“Truly thou art damned, like an ill-roasted egg, all on one side.”