Bangers and Smash (Excerpt)
by Fiona Lloyd
It’s Friday, and there’s a giant sausage where my house should be.
Mum is freaking out, flapping around like a chicken.
Dug looks like he wishes a hole would swallow him up.
Bonzo is hiding.
Dad’s inside. With it.
It’s all Dug’s fault. Well, strictly speaking, it’s Dad’s, but I’ll blame Dug anyway.
Clearly, this isn’t Dug’s finest moment. He’s standing on the street, mouth gaping wide enough to shove several sausages in. Believe me, it would be my pleasure.
It all started on Monday, when Dad came home with a sausage machine he’d bought online from E-Tree Market.
‘Bit of a winner, lads. Seemed keen to get rid of it. Best bargain I’ve picked up since the blunt bladed butter cutter. We’ll show Mum how dinners should be cooked.’
Mum’s charcoal chicken is legendary. And her charcoal carrots, charcoal eggs, charcoal baked beans. You get the picture.
Dad pulls instructions out of the box and puts them straight down without looking. He plugs it in and starts pressing buttons. After a minute of changing his glasses from his forehead to his nose and back again, there’s a CLUNK, WHIR noise. He smiles, looking slightly deranged. ‘Right boys. Family Sausage Competition.’