The Adventures of Davey Packet

Two cups of mustard stood ominously on the grimy counter, partially blocking out the setting sun. The elder, an old crusty cup of mustard named Colonel, was obviously the leader of the two by his stance and barked orders. The younger was a slightly runny cup of lemon-colored mustard, a female named Dermike.1

"This town ain't big enough for the both of us!" he shouted at the two quivering BBQ packets before him.2

Dermike grabbed a spork in a sinister manner, stalked behind Colonel, and in a single lurching movement, stabbed at the helpless BBQ packets. (It is uncertain as to how a cup of mustard without any appendages to speak of can commit such a crime, but that is how the grotesque tale goes...)3

An odd splurching sound came from the screaming BBQ packets as the spork's short tines entered and exited the thin plastic, and slowly a puddle of BBQ spread across the fake-plastic-marble counter.4

A few last dying screams echoed in the 7-11, and then all of Butte, Montana was silent.5

Later...6

Little Davey Packet whimpered at the bottom of the rack of BBQ sauces. Just beyond his view, two packets of splattered BBQ and a lone spork lay on the dirty counter, testament to his parent packets cold sauce-d murder. Had Colonel and Dermike known of the Packet's young son, surely he would be in mortal danger as well, but somehow, (perhaps the hundreds of other sauce packets to confuse him with) the knowledge of a son escaped them.7

For the moment, lonely and confused as the toddler-packet may have been, he was safe.8

38 Days Later...9

Davey's inherited imaginary backbone urged him to seek justice. No one knows quite how BBQ packets reproduce, much less pass on traits, but sure enough, Davey had secured his mother's pride and father's courage. The two outstanding Packet parents of the Packet family burned brightly in Davey's mind, never to be forgotten.10

There wasn't any other options. Colonel was going down.11

Later On That Night...12

When the only sound heard was the whistling of the old, prune-y, wrinkled cashier, Davey began his nightly ritual of a brisk walk to the napkin tray to exercise and clear his thoughts. (It may have been more of a snakelike motion-again, no appendages, but bear with the story.) Passing the condiment dispenser, he heard the faint but certain cry of a damsel in distress.13

He stopped and looked about.14

"Hello? Is anyone there?" he called.15

"Down here!! Help! I'm stuck! I've fallen, and I can't get up!" a voice cried.16

There she was-shoved between the thin space of the Slushee machine and the counter. Her gorgeous lettering and clear plastic back proclaiming her contents to the world glittered in the warm light of the hotdog carousel thing. There was no doubt about it...Davey had fallen in love.17

Still Later...18

It was fortunate that Davey was attracted to older honey packets named Liz, since he discovered that the condiment he had rescued was, indeed, a honey packet named Liz precisely eight years and twenty two days past her expiration date. Age was an issue for neither lover, though. They were the Ashton and Demi of the condiment world.19

After some time of bonding and canoodling, Davey shared his parent's gruesome end with her.20

"Something must be done!" Liz exclaimed in a very cliche and typical, girly manner.21

So the dynamic duo hatched a plan.22

The Next Night...23

Davey and Liz crept up on Colonel, whose senses were failing in proportion to the amount of crust he gained per day, and shoved him off the counter good and hard when his back was turned. (Dermike met her maker the next day when consumed by a ten year old boy enjoying a bag of Salt 'n' Vinegar chips.)24

Several weeks later, his remains were mopped into a bucket of dirty water by an ignorant employee.25

The two condiments lived happily ever after, and some time later, a brand new packet of Honey BBQ nestled peacefully at the bottom the condiment tray.26

THE END.