A Sausage In Time

[submission from silhouettic]

On a loose and pungent morning, David sat in a cafe. It was Valentine’s Day and he was all alone. His member ached in sorrow for the secret love that he could never share. How could he expect Pizza to love someone with a dry phalange?

Warmly, he began to recite a poem he had composed. “Ah, my love is like a moreish salty pepperoni, all on a summer’s day. I wish my Pizza would caress me, in his own irresistible way…”

“Do you?” Pizza sat down beside David and put his hand on David’s digit. “I think that could be arranged.”

David gasped ingenuously. “But what about my dry phalange?”

“I like it,” Pizza said haphazardly. “I think it’s intimidating.”

They came together and their kiss was like pizza straight out of the oven.

“I love you,” David said lithely.

“I love you too,” Pizza replied and caressed him.

They bought a cow, moved in together, and lived sleepily ever after.