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Tom Riach
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Cyril The Silly Sausage - A Childrens' Bedtime Story

Published on 3/14/2015
For additional information  Click Here


Cyril The Silly Sausage” is an original copyrighted Joseph Tom Riach short story written by Tom Riach (that's me above) from my home in the sunny south of Portugal.

Joseph T.Riach, Freelance Writer

Joseph T.Riach's Daily View Of The World!


There once was a very silly sausage named Cyril. Cyril lived at the back of Ma Weaner’s fridge and was in fact a very very silly sausage indeed. So how silly a silly sausage did Cyril the silly sausage have to be in order to be not just a silly sausage but to be a very very silly sausage indeed? Well gather around and listen in …

Cyril, as said, lived at the back of Ma Weaner’s fridge. He lived there with several dozen other sausages all of whom he knew and who were his friends. Many, like Cyril, lived near to the back of the fridge but others of course lived nearer to the front. Those sausages which lived at the front of the fridge didn’t seem to stay in the ‘neighbourhood’ for long. Because every other day Ma Weaner would reach into the fridge and take away some of the sausages from near to the front. Exactly where these sausages went to wasn’t known for sure by the other sausages living in the fridge but the general concensus among the sausages was that ‘it must be somewhere nice’. This conclusion was arrived at because usually, shortly after Ma Weaner had taken sausages away, the sausages still in the fridge could hear the departed sausages sizzling. Now they didn’t know why the extracted sausages sizzled nor how or why they made that particularly sizzly sound, but it was generally agreed that it was a very pleasant and happy sound. Therefore, reasoned the sausages still in the fridge, their friends must be enjoying a jolly nice time. In fact, so much did the sausages believe that their absent friends were having a jolly nice time sizzling away happily with Ma Weaner, that many of them longed to be out of their home in the fridge and joining them. None more so than Cyril the silly sausage.

So one day Cyril asked some of the sausages near to the front of the fridge if they would change places with him. Then when Ma Weaner came for her daily pick of sausages he would be taken to that happy place where sausages sizzled merrily. But none were keen to swop places with him of course because most of the other sausages in the fridge also wanted to join their friends who were having such a sizzling nice time somewhere outside the fridge. But one sausage, Cedric not-so-silly-sausage, wasn’t so sure. He reasoned that if all the sausages taken from the fridge were having such a jolly nice time, then why did none of them ever come back to tell of their adventure. “Not once”, he frowned, “Has a sausage come back. There’s something not right if you ask me.” So he agreed to give his place near the front of the fridge to Cyril, and he in turn happily snuggled up in Cyril’s place in the rear where there was no chance of Ma Weaner finding him.

Cyril waited eagerly at the front of the fridge. Soon, he knew, Ma Weaner would come for her daily pick of the sausages and then Cyril would be able to join all those other happy sausages sizzling somewhere outside the fridge. After what seemed like an eternity to Cyril, the fridge door opened. Ma Weaner reached in and picked up …. Cyril! “Yippee!” shouted Cyril silly sausage as he excitedly waved goodbye to the other sausages left behind in the fridge.

Soon he was looking expectantly around his new surroundings in Ma Weaner’s kitchen. But where were all the other sausages? He couldn’t see a single sausage anywhere. But before he could puzzle on this any more, Ma Weaner stuck a fork in him. “Ouch!” cried Cyril, “That was sore.” Then she did it again, and again, and again. Soon Cyril had little pricks all up and down him. They tingled and hurt. This wasn’t what he had expected. He sobbed a little and wished that he was back with his friends in the fridge. “I’m a silly sausage,” he thought to himself. Then he was thrown into a pan. He knocked his head as he fell and passed out. When he came to he was aware of a lovely warm feeling around him. “Mmm, this I like,” he thought, “Much better than the cold shivveryness of the fridge.” He stretched out and relaxed. Gradually he felt a little warmer. And then a little warmer still. After a time he was very very warm indeed. In fact he was quite hot. Then he began to sweat. “Oh no, I must have a fever,” he thought because now he was feeling really rather hot indeed. “I should have stayed in the fridge,” he sobbed once more, “I’m such a very silly sausage.” Then it happened. He didn’t know how he did it or why but he did it. He sizzled!

After that he sizzled some more. And then some more. Soon he was sizzling merrily. For a moment he felt such a happy sausage. After all he was sizzling, and all the sausages back in the fridge had agreed that sizzling was a very pleasant and happy sound and that those sausages who had departed the fridge to sizzle must be enjoying a jolly nice time. So Cyril silly sausage decided to relax and also enjoy his sizzle. Soon he was sizzling none stop. A contented if rather silly grin spread across his face but all the while he was getting hotter and hotter. And by now, although he knew not what it was, he was sporting the equivalent of a fine sun tan. He was as brown as a berry – and getting even hotter! Now he was far from happy. In fact he was very unhappy indeed. He felt not just like an unhappy sausage nor even just like a silly sausage. He felt like a very very unhappy very very silly sausage.

And he was starting to expand. No doubt about it, his tummy was growing bigger and bigger every second. And it was stretching his skin tighter and tighter. This started to hurt Cyril silly sausage a lot and oh how Cyril wished that he was back at the back of thefridge relaxing in the cool with all his sausage friends. He wished that he had listened to Cedric sausage and had not been such a silly sausage as to have swapped places with Cedric and gone to the front of the fridge where Ma Weaner had found him and was now subjecting him to this hot and terrible sizzling ordeal. Sizzling was definitely not fun and it was painful too!

He started to sob yet again … and then to make little popping noises. The popping noises increased and got louder and louder. He didn't know how he made the popping noises nor why but when he looked down he saw that his belly was starting to burst out! Oh how Cyril cried! He cried and cried and yelled and screeched and wriggled but he couldn't escape the sizzling torture of Ma Weaner's pan. Then all at once, he cried out ever so loud at the top of his voice, one last screeching sizzle ... and … exploded! The blast threw him ... out of the frying pan and into the fire ... where he disappeared in a blaze of flame and was never seen again!

Back in the fridge, cuddling up with his friends in the furthest back corner, not-so-silly sausage Cedric snuggled and felt content. He knew that Ma Weaner would never find him there and he also knew that all the other sausages jostling at the front of the fridge to be her next choice to enjoy a sizzling good time would, once gone, never come back. Those same sausages at the front had been listening intently to silly sausage Cyril sizzling. As Cyril's sizzling had increased they had felt more and more happy for Cyril and jealous of him too. They each longed to be out of the fridge and enjoying a sizzling good time too, just like they oh so mistakenly believed silly sausage Cyril was enjoying. But as they pushed and shoved to be at the front of the fridge and the next sausage to be picked by Ma Weaner, little did they know the fate that would befall them when they left the safe haven of their cool fridge home. You see they did not, could not know that … all that sizzles is not cold!

Meanwhile at the back of the fridge, nestling contentedly and out of sight, an ever so slightly smug grin passed over the face of Cedric not-so-silly sausage. He thought to advise the other sausages ... “If you can't stand the heat stay out of the kitchen” ... but instead he just smiled and said nothing.


Tom Riach lives and works in the sunny south of Portugal. This is his 'office'!

Cyril The Silly Sausage

Click on Joseph T.Riach, Freelance Writer to learn more about the author or to inquire regarding his work or commissions.

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is an original copyrighted Tom Riach short story. I hope you enjoyed reading about ”Cyril The Silly Sausage” and found it entertaining. To learn more or to get in touch with me please visit me on my web page at Joseph T.Riach, Freelance Writer

See you there! Regards, Tom.

© Copyright Joseph T.Riach 1998-2015. All rights reserved.

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