The Great Honk was pleased. He eased himself down the side street and slipped into his assigned place. Quietly he opened his door and popped his hood. The crowd milled around him; no one noticed he was…
“Late again. That’s the third time in three years.”
The Great Honk swore under his breath. There was Clark the cat holding a clipboard in his paw, standing in front of him. Rats!
“Don’t tell me you were stuck in Lodi again,” said Clark. “What was it this time? Carburetor? Fuel pump? You know all contestants must be in working condition. No junk cars allowed at the show.”
“No, no, there was no car trouble,” the Great Honk protested. “I swear that everything is in working order.”
“Then why are you late? It was Lodi, wasn’t it?”
The Great Honk nodded.
“Good grief! Was it hitchhikers?”
At this the Great Honk looked indignant.
“Of course, not! I never do hitchhikers…except for this one young couple; the girl was so cute with her long black braids. But other than that, no.”
“Well, then, what is it?” asked Clark.
The Great Honk sighed and rolled his headlights heavenward.
“The meat market,” he said.
“To be precise, The Lakewood Meats & Sausage German Dakota Style House Made Sausage in Lodi.”
“I don’t believe it! You are late because of sausages?”
“Not just any sausages—the best sausages ever! Ambrosia in a pig casing! Here, I’ll prove it.”
The Great Honk started his motor. Exhaust began pouring out of the tailpipe.
“Just take a whiff of that,” he cried.
Clark went to the back of the truck and sniffed tentatively.
“Hmm…is that smoked pork I smell, with a touch of jalapeno?”
He sniffed again.
“I’m starting to detect a whiff of bratwurst—no, make that weisswurst. You had weisswurst!”
“Oh, yes. And bangers and beer and links and pretzels!”
Clark stood back and tapped his clipboard.
“Well, I can understand why you got stuck in Lodi, but you are still late.”
“Please don’t disqualify me. I’ve traveled all the way from Sacramento for this show. There must be something…say, if you look behind my seat, you’ll find something rather interesting.”
Clark eyed the Great Honk with suspicion. He reached behind the front seat, pulled out a small basket, and peeked inside. There, in a luscious display of porcine pulchritude, were sausages of every kind: beef bratwurst, smoked pork and beef bratwurst, bangers, and links, crowned with regal ropes of weisswurst.
The Great Honk blinked his headlamps.
“There’s more than enough to share with a friend,” he said.
“You are aware, aren’t you, that bribing a judge can get you disqualified,” said Clark sternly.
The Great Honk sputtered.
“I only meant…why, no, I never suggested…that is…oh, bother!”
Clark tossed aside his clipboard and dived into the basket.
“It’s a good thing I’m not a judge,” he said.
“I thought you were.”
“Nope,” said Clark, smacking his lips and licking his paws.
“Then why the clipboard?”
“Oh, I just like carrying one around. You never know when it will come in handy.”
Daily Prompt: Honk