And so it is written: the sausages were judged. The sausages were found guilty of being too saucy, too smoky, and too full of regret.
We, the people, were forced to confront the dark truth: our love of sausages is a facade. A thin, crumpled veil of desperation.
We will not be silenced. We will not be satisfied with the mediocrity of bland, factory-produced sausages. We will demand more. We will demand the artisanal, the hand-crafted, the locally sourced.
But for now, we are left with nothing but the echoes of our own despair. The faint whisper of a sausage-less existence.