Frog Applause by Teresa Burritt for September 13, 2018

The man got fired for sticking his peter in the tomato slicer. He went home and his wife said, pull down your pants and let’s take a look. She said, nothing looks wrong, what happened? He said she got fired too.

I prefer the lumpy, non-uniform texture of a plain ketchup on my cornflakes ….

I used to put ketchup on my hot dog until I realized that was deviant behavior. I now eat hot dogs with fancy mustard instead.

There really is a grading system for Catsup.

https://www.ams.usda.gov/grades-standards/tomato-catsup-grades-and-standards

Clark Griswold: Real tomato ketchup, Eddie? Cousin Eddie: Oh, nothing but the best!

Dijon ketchup, anyone?

Now there’s a guy out looking for a classy tomato.

B.V.?

Wow, Butt-Head sure grew up handsome.

Not all drama queens use ketchup. Sometimes it’s real blood.

Beevis attempting the foreign concept of adulting.

“No stems or seeds that you don’t need…”

May the best ketchup win the slow race.

Is this Beavis or Butthead?

The sensory apparatus embedded in that yuge forehead must be prodigious.

“Pardon me, would you have any Grey Poo-poo?”

Back on the street, I unpacked Connie’s care package. It was a big bottle of Catch-up. Nobody called me Grim except the Cat Jugglers, and they were all but extinct. Just the Kraken Brothers weren’t locked up or dead. Back when I was one of The City’s Finest, ten or twelve years ago, I’ve lost track, they were big time in the import business. Mostly drugs, guns and underage boys and girls for the people who were too far gone for drugs and guns but had a lot of money to throw around. We took out most of their management, aside from the Krakens. The small fry drifted away when the money train stopped running. The Krakens had extracted and laundered enough cash that they didn’t care. They laughed about it. They were the last crooks standing. We never caught enough of a break to put them away. They called me “Grim Death” for hanging onto the case when there weren’t any leads to tie them in. It was all there. I needed to get the picture, but he couldn’t give it to me up front. The odds were against me, but luck was with me. Connie wasn’t above fixing the game. Lucky me.

I hate ketchup. It might have something to do with the trauma of receiving those little ketchup and mustard condiment packages in my Halloween loot. Talk about a disappointment! As far as I know, there have never been any “fun-size” ketchup packages.

Ah, the Smug Intellectual Elitist, relegated to some remote and isolated ketchup grading facility. It must be grating, just as those big red-stained machines grind the tomato pulp into a finer, more syrupy-like goop.

He’s nothing but a Big-domed Goop Geek.

The World can relax….

Widow’s peak, large forehead.