Hey, just digging around for older contest entries from yours truly, and I found this. I can’t remember the details of the contest, but I believe it had something to do with the human characters not speaking, and this is how I got around it, I think. Sorry if the tenses change, because I found that several times in the quick edit I just did. Please enjoy.

Ted, the Triple-Thick slice of bacon, had luck.

Good, or bad, he had it.

It started when his pig got caught in the bacon prohibition of the 1950s. His pig, Ol’ Lou, was wandering along when some bacon smugglers found him. Bacon had risen in price and pigs were now one of the most wanted objects in the US. Then his pig was killed, and along with it Ted; bad luck.

But, he was accidentally shocked back to life on his way into the plastic bag; good luck.

Unfortunately, plastic bags make it hard to breath.

Fortunately, triple thick pieces of bacon don’t need to breath.

Unfortunately, he was sold to a man who was planning on eating him rather than releasing him. Go figure.

Anyway, with that prologue we may enter the story of Ted and his Buddies

 

Ted was crammed between his new best friend, Fred the Frying Pan, and his fellow triple thick slices of bacon. Considering that the other slices of bacon were dead, Fred was quickly becoming Ted’s favorite person, though Ted knew not how long this relationship would last. Suddenly Fred froze and stopped his digression (If digression was a sport Fred would be olympic champion) and they both gazed up at Slimy. Slimy was a unkempt man, hence the name. His grimy fingers curled around Fred’s handle and his other hand grabbed Ted’s package of potential deliciosity. [Ask author for dictionary definition] After setting them on what appeared to be sand, Slimy looked around for a knife. Locating it he scooted over to his fire and set Fred in it. The suspense built as Slimy decided what end of the package of bacon to cut. Ted was on the top, so in the hands of any logical, and literate person, He would have been a goner. But luckily, Ted weren’t in the hands o’ no smarty-britches. He were’s in the hands o’ ol’ Slimy, infamousest ignoramusest in the whole Westesest. After cutting open the bottom of the package, despite the arrows that practically screamed at Slimy for opening it the wrong way, Slimy slapped three triple thick slices of bacon into the pan. After they were sizzling Slimy laid back and whistled a tune.

Once finished the bacon was gobbled up. When Slimy started to clean up he set Fred up against a cactus. From his view he could see nothing. Nothing, but the desert, and some cacti, and some…actually there was nothing else. Suddenly feeling a sense of urgency, Ted looked at Fred and focused his whole being on Fred. Suddenlier Fred heard Ted whispering over and over, Burn the snippets of bacon, then burn Slimy as he reaches for you, then flip the knife to me when he isn’t looking.

Telepathy was only one of many services that Ted had to offer.

Ted saw Fred’s handle wiggle and knew he had been heard.

Soon Slimy smelled smoke. Looking to the fire he saw a huge blaze coming from Fred.

It’s amazing what a well trained frying pan can do! thought Ted

Reaching toward Fred as planned Slimy unexpectedly found himself seared.

Screaming words that Fred’s mother would have killed him for saying, Slimy hopped around the campfire like a one-footed jackrabbit. As he continued his dance pattern accompanied by a profane tirade, Slimy didn’t notice that Fred had flipped the knife towards the package of bacon. It sliced through the air and continued slicing right through the package. Sliding out of the gap Ted inched his way, inchworm style, around the cactus.

Finally Slimy settled down and put all of his stuff away. Laying down to sleep for the night, he nodded of still muttering about his missing bacon.

 

Fred woke to the feel of raw bacon on his cooking surface.

“Fred,” whispered Ted.

“What’s up?” Fred replied.

“We gotta get out of here! That Slimy is a maniac! He ate three of my brothers!”

“But that’s what he’s supposed to do.”

“No it’s not! Just because we slices of bacon aren’t as big as people that doesn’t mean that they can eat us!”

“But, they do anyway. Besides, bacon pieces are inferior to humans. You are also quite tasty.”

“Inferior!?! Tasty!?! Wait a cotton-pickin’ minute!!! How would you  know how we taste?”

“You didn’t know that frying pans clean themselves by licking themselves, like cats clean themselves.”

“That makes you the most revolting person I know.”

“How so?!” cried Fred, starting to get aggravated.

“You’re a cross between a cannibal and a liposuction… uh. A cross between a cannibal, and one who liposucks. You not only eat the bacon, but you soak up their fat before they’re fried!!!”

“That was the most insensitive remark I’ve ever heard you say to me. I hate you!!!”

“Talk about insensitive!!! I’m leaving and I’m taking…uh,…er,…well I’m leaving!!!”

“Good riddance!”

Ted moved along at a steady pace, ending up swallowed in the black of night. Though he feared the worst he believed he now had a purpose. He felt called to begin an association. The National Association for the Genetic deTastization of Bacon-kind. After thinking these thoughts Ted was lifted into the air and chewed and swallowed.

“Mmmmmm Mmmmmm, good!”