He was banished to the corner. Again. Seems to be the story of his life.
But he refused to wear pants, and they couldn’t force him, even with…
…bacon on the brain. Thoughts not wavering and with a skillet in tow…
…he stuck his finger up his nose and lamented his sad state of affairs.
Since being banished John Jacob had been trying to figure out
just where his life was headed.
At the same time, upon attempting to find bacon and pants…he heard a sound. Or a bang.
Or even possibly, a clang. It had a distinct ring, but not like a bell had rang. It was definitely not a ding.
The source revealed itself as the chef-shaped kitchen timer, which had fallen onto the floor as its time expired.
John Jacob was relieved. He thought it was his German half-brother, Jingleheimer Schmidt, coming back to finish what he started.
You see, Jingleheimer was a big confectioner. And John Jacob preferred savory. So he shuddered whenever his brother baked.
It’s not that he was bad – no, wait. It was. He put Aleppo Pepper in everything. Including the Chocolate-Dipped Spice Twists
that were ready to be taken out of the oven. The timer had been ringing for 22 minutes. But Jingleheimer was still on his run.
“Let the baking BURN!” said John.
And it did. John cackled, then coughed, in the corner, watching the smoke billow out of the oven. But where was Jingleheimer?
And why, pray tell, did he not put on pants before entering the kitchen this morning? The Inpsectors™ were coming by!
He wasn’t the baker in the family, and the last time he took something out of the oven, it was a disaster. His scars proved it…
John reinserted his finger in his nose, his go-to posture for deep thinking.
John probed his sinus cavity for ideas, trudging through lost notions and manic whims before striking a subterranean concept.
“What if Jingleheimer’s hurt?” John thought. He pulled his pants up and made his way through the smoke to go find his brother.
He found him passed out on the floor overcome by the aroma of burnt buns still clutching plans for Jingle’s Bacon Bun Food Truck.
John grabbed Saran Wrap, put it over Jingleheimer’s mouth, poked a hole, and began CPR. (You never know where a Schmidt has been)
While Schmidt was a terrible baker, he was a masterful flirt. It seemed no woman could resist him.
…and into the black Lincoln Town Car he had been using for his burgeoning limo service.
En route to the hospital, Schmidt stirred from the back seat, a low chortle reverberating in his smoke-filled lungs…
“Who’s this freak?” asked the rich lady with the long black veil that John had forgotten was his fare in the back seat.
“And why’d we stop in that driveway?” she continued. “And now where are we going?” John rolled his eyes, then raised the partition.
“Terribly sorry, ma’am, but we’ll have to make one more stop before taking you to the opera. I’m sure we won’t be…”
Saved by the partition. Jingleheimer would have to deal with the lady’s nagging. John turned the radio up. His favorite jam was on
…the dashboard – strawberry, what was left of his lunch. And now it was nearly dawn. “Man, I’m hungry. Wish I had a…
…piece of toast. Or one of Jingleheimer’s Chocolate Dipped Spice Twists.” As if on cue, there was a knock on the partition.
It was Schmidt. He surreptitiously pulled something from his pocket and flung it at john while the lady was on the phone.
John ducked instinctively, and when he did, he yanked the wheel left, crashing into the Oscar Mayer Weinermobile in the next lane.
The Weinermobile immediately burst into flames. “One dog, well done,” muttered John. He could hear Schmidt & the lady yelling…
…in excitement over the prospect of free hot dogs. John Jacob quickly realized his good fortune as well, and he started yelling.
Everyone was yelling happily. John Jacob, Jingleheimer Schmidt and the old lady went in for a group hug. Then for hot dogs.
“John, Jacob, Jingleheimer, Schmidt.” I used to love that song growing up. So I was psyched at the possibilities for where a story about these two brothers could go. And despite their differences, when it came down to it, John Jacob had his brother’s best interests in mind. And they ended up with hot dogs! So lucky!
Lots of new contributors on this one. Thanks to @swcouture for the photo. And to new writers @rookiephenom, @MusicAdamT, @swcouture and @martinbihl. And of course, thank you to regular contributors @FeliciaCago, @Chrisa_Hickey, @swanieson, @Robotstephe, @nella22, @Pawela04 and @hwtibbs. That was a fun story.