The Scintillating Saga of the Seven, er, Three Hotdog Samurai OR What Happens When I am Bored and My Daughter Has Input

Once there were three little hot dog samurai thingies.  (Keep in mind my daughter who is eight is telling the story.  She has inherited my gene for meandering in a meaningless fashion, except that it is meaningful to her.  Look, a troop of clowns doing a strip tease on Main Street.  They have ice cream.  What was I saying?)

You know, you can do fun things with hot dogs, tooth picks, sprinkles, Hershey's
kisses, and thin spaghetti.  Really.  (Side note: Sharpies do not seem
to work on hot dogs.  I had to use little coriander's for the eyes.)

So there was a queen and a king and a prince who all hung out in the happy go lucky land of sprinkles and Hershey's kisses.  Of course they were happy, no one was grilling them on the barbecue or boiling them in water.  (BUT they were cutting them in half for a stupid blog, but we'll disregard this part.)

This is the queen and the king who are pretty happy if out of focus.
I had a lot of help from the peanut gallery who keep telling me
how to take a picture even though she hardly ever takes them herself.
She kept bumping me to tell me how to take the picture.
Anyway the king has star sprinkles in his head because apparently
hot dog kings do this.  The queen is wearing miniature muffin skirt
and has never looked better because you totally cannot see the plastic surgery scars behind her
ears.  (What ears?  Oops.)  (BTW, eat your heart out, Joan Rivers.)

 

This is the hot dog prince and he's got spaghetti hair because
it's bitching and also because it was easy to break off and stick
into his hot dog noggin.

Then a bad guy came along.

You can totally tell he's bad because he's got aspirin for eyes and an orange
cocktail weenie sword.  (Could be a cocktail olive sword but I went for the bigger laugh.)
Only the baddest hot dogs have orange cocktail
weenie swords.  Plus he's got a frowny face and cotton candy hair.
(We went to an education fair today and someone was handing out
cotton candy.  How serendipitous for our diorama.)

The bad hot dog totally went bad ass on the sprinkles and Hershey kisses kingdom and said he was going to kidnap the queen and do lewd things with her and mustard, which caused her to faint.  (Cressy didn't actually tell that part but she nodded firmly when I suggested it might be so.)

Bet you didn't know hot dog queens go commando.

Then the bad guy stabbed the king in the tummy.

I might have gotten carried away with the ketchup.  Also does anyone
else wonder where that one Hershey's kiss came from?  Just me, right?

The hot dog prince went all samurai.

The giveaway is the frowny eyebrows above the coriander eyes.
Also the blue cocktail weenie sword.  Only good hot dog samurai
get the blue cocktail weenie swords.

There was a fierce battle.

Damn.  That's a lot of ketchup.  Guess who's doing laundry later today?
Cressy shrieked, "MORE KETCHUP, MOMMY!"  I squirted the
squeezy bottle and it went skidoosh.  Apparently it's not advisable to
put ketchup back into the bottle once it's been squirted out.  (Lesson
to remember.)

The hot dog prince samurai won because he's good and kind and treats little hot dogs nice.  (There's a moral there somewhere that my daughter is trying to impart.)

All was good in the kingdom of sprinkles and Hershey's kisses again.

See the hot dog king's got a booboo bandage, but for some reason it
wouldn't stick, so we had to put it on with a toothpick, which should
defeat the purpose, but it's all good for this story.  The hot dog queen
forgot to pull her skirts down, the hussy.

The end.

But not the end of this blog.