Moments before she had been whistling while she went along the sidewalk when, struck with a sudden liquid lurch of last nights leftovers, a quick crease in her casing bade her barrel blindly through the nearest door, which unfortunately cost her, being the local sausage bar.
All the meats within turned toward the doorway and before they got a hold of their shock the bartender, a hot dog, stopped and asked her ‘What do you want?’, as that was not at all sort of spot she ought to have entered but whatever stood between clean jeans and spilling the beans was what was needed so she squeezed and pleaded:
'Mustard.'
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