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Sausage Mobile Shenanigans
“Hass!” Harvey whispered. “Pssst! Hass, over here!”
His brother, Hassel, popped his head out of Raptor’s back door. “What?”
Hassel’s eyes grew round when Harvey motioned at the dinged-up Sausage Mobile pulled up in Ace’s driveway.
“They’re out shopping,” Harvey said, waggling his eyebrows. “Bet you want to get your hands all over this huge sausage.”
“Oh, yes.” Hassel almost moaned, leaping out of Raptor’s mansion and running over in his farmer outfit. “I’ve been drooling ever since you told me about it.”
“Let’s work the sausage,” Harvey said.
“We’ll work it hard.”
They scrambled up the Sausage Mobile, all the way to the top of its scratched-up sausage. Harvey stood on its broad, round tip; Hassel crowded snugly behind him.
“Do you trust me?” Hassel said, his head over Harvey’s shoulder.
Harvey gasped. “I trust you.”
“Close your eyes.”
Harvey closed his eyes, and Hassel raised Harvey’s arms so they were stretched out on either side of him. Hassel grasped Harvey’s waist securely. A breeze blew around them.
“Now, open your eyes,” Hassel whispered.
Harvey opened his eyes and looked down at the field of tall grass in front of them, the wind ruffling his hair. “I’m flying, Hass. I’m flying!”
“Let’s not crash into an iceberg,” Hassel said.
“No, we’ll just crash through someone’s back door.”
“Just the tip.”
Both of them snickered.
“We need to take drone footage of this from every angle,” Hassel said into his ear. “We’ll smash both the e-card and paper card competition this Yuletide.”
Harvey nodded solemnly. “Especially if we launch something from the sausage’s tip.”
“A cream cannon.”
“Yes.”
The first prize for the Butler Brothers Annual Yuletide Greeting Card Competition was an all-expenses-paid grant for a giant prank. Not that the Butlers couldn’t afford to pay for their own pranks; it was just that the title was highly coveted, and the resulting prank was always something incredible.
“Actually, I also want to turn this into a mural for Spicy Master’s dining room wall,” Harvey said. “They should know what real romance looks like.”
“Between brothers?” Hassel coughed.
“That’ll make them remember it better!” Harvey snapped his fingers. “C’mon. Chop chop. We don’t have much time before they get back.”
They scrambled off the Sausage Mobile and hurried away to acquire the equipment they would need.
***
A week later, Ace and Ivo stepped into their dining room, only to freeze at the floor-to-ceiling picture glued to their dining room wall.
“What… is that?” Ivo asked warily.
It was a life-size picture of their Sausage Mobile. But not only that.
Standing on the Sausage Mobile’s sausage tip were Harvey and Hassel in that classic movie pose, their faces nuzzled together in bliss, Harvey’s arms stretched out as though he were flying. In the photo, a thick jet of white was shooting out from the Sausage Mobile’s tip.
“Uh,” Ace said, his consternation growing.
The background music suddenly swelled. Neither of them caught the title, but snatches of the lyrics came through.
You’re austere, there’s nothing I hold dear
But you’re wriggly in my arms, and my pickup lines will go long and longer
Drums and trumpets began to thunder through the mansion. Ivo clutched at Ace, only for Harvey and Hassel to come stomping in as a two-person marching band, with floppy fluffy dicks attached to their heads like rabbit ears.
“Hey!” Ace cried, offended.
Harvey and Hassel let their trumpets die down. Both of them were grinning madly.
“I thought you would enjoy this!” Harvey crowed.
Ace scowled. “Well, I’m sorely wishing I’d thought of that idea first! Damn it!”
“But you will leave our masterpiece up,” Harvey said, waving at the wall. “It won first prize in the Greeting Card Competition.”
“What does that mean?” Ace asked suspiciously.
“… Nothing.” Both butlers grinned innocently, which was the surest sign of trouble.
They made their exit quickly, and Ace only noticed after that the Sausage Mobile’s tip was not only shooting in the picture, but it was also dribbling an unidentified white substance from its tip down to the dining room floor.
“We could paste your picture on there, along with Spicy Consort,” said Harvey from elsewhere in the mansion.
“I would prefer that,” Ace said. “And get rid of that white stuff!”
“It’s cream of sausage,” Harvey yelled back.
***
Ace and Ivo’s picture went up on the mural, but instead of replacing Harvey and Hassel on the tip of their sausage, it was Ivo with his arms outstretched and Ace behind him, standing on the other end of the Sausage Mobile’s sausage.
Ace and Ivo stared at the edited mural in stunned silence.
“I wish we’d submitted this picture instead,” Harvey said wistfully from the side. “Dual-ended sausage cannon? That would’ve won us first place for five years straight.”
“You can’t possibly win multiple years with one picture,” Ace said, for lack of any other response.
“Oh, you can,” Harvey said sagely. “Once, Hilly-Billy—Telos’ butler—won for eleven years straight. It was a picture of himself in a giant eggplant-ucken. Like a turducken, but with multi-colored eggplants nestled like Russian dolls. He’d tied himself to the roof of a car speeding down the highway. There were cop cars behind him with their lights on, and pterodactyls breathing fire from the sky. And it was all done like a Renaissance painting. We all bowed to that brilliance.”
“I think I remember something about that,” Ace said grudgingly. “But this is my house, and a huge mural on the wall should have me and my mate front and center!”
“All right, I’ll see what I can do about that,” Harvey said.
Ace eyed him distrustfully. “This better not be something worse.”
Harvey grinned. “I will do my best.”
***
The prize money was in.
Between plotting their prank masterpiece, Harvey and Hassel adjusted the dining room mural.
Now, there was an extra large image of Ace and Ivo looming behind the Sausage Mobile like gods, towering over their ‘flying’ selves on the Sausage Mobile’s tip.
“That’s you, front and center,” Harvey said with a flourish.
Ace scowled more. Then he snorted, and broke out laughing. “Fuck. I can’t win.”
“You really can’t win against a Butler Brother,” Harvey said sagely.
Cartbreaker, the shopping cart, squeaked its wheels in agreement.
***
The prank masterpiece happened on Ace and Ivo’s bonding anniversary.
However, neither of them knew this.
Ivo woke up snuggled comfortably into his alpha, Ace’s arm draped around his waist. He wasn’t entirely sure what had woken him up, except when he opened his eye, several things shimmered in the air around their bed.
Ivo squinted and sat upright, trying to figure if a spell had been cast on them.
“Sweetheart?” Ace mumbled, nuzzling into Ivo. He must’ve heard Ivo’s increased heartbeat, because he sucked in a deep breath and made himself sit up, too. “What’s wrong?”
Then he looked at what Ivo was looking at.
As though the shimmering things knew they were watching, they started to take shape. They revealed themselves to be several strings of pictures dangling from the ceiling: each string contained six or nine drawings of hotdogs.
But those weren’t ordinary hotdogs. They were hotdogs with skinny, noodly arms and legs.
As one, the hotdogs began to dance the same dance that Ace shared with Raptor. They wriggled their hips and moved their skinny legs, right before a pole slid down in each of their drawings, and the hotdogs began to pole-dance.
“This is crazy,” Ace said in wonder.
“You sound amazed,” Ivo said, mostly in shock.
The concealed speakers began to play a song.
You are my one and only
My hot dog baby
When I see you, my legs go wobbly
The hot dogs gyrated their hips and reached down to… jack off their hot dog dicks.
“What am I looking at?” Ivo whimpered.
“I don’t know,” Ace whispered, unable to tear his eyes away.
When the song reached its crescendo, all the hotdogs thrust up, and jizz squirted into the air—tiny drops that sparkled in the sunlight.
The room suddenly smelled overwhelmingly like hotdogs.
“Ugh,” Ace said. “I didn’t need this smell in here! Harvey!”
“Happy Anniversary!” Harvey yelled back. “May you have several more hotdoggy dickings in your life!”
“I hope like hell they don’t all smell like hotdog!” Ace replied.
“Don’t give him more ideas,” Ivo mumbled. “What if it happens again next year?”
“Crap,” Ace said.
“I knew we were holding back the rest of the prize money for something else,” Harvey said. “Thank you, Spicy Master and Consort!”
Ivo slumped back into the pillows and groaned.
–
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