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Never the Big Spoon Origin Story

Never the Big Spoon Origin Story

If there’s one thing we know about Carl the Flamingo, it’s that he LOVES a deal. That’s one of the reasons why he likes to keep goodrs ‘ffordable. He usually spends most mornings scanning Croupon for stuff like deals on excursions he can take his dates on, elective cosmetic surgery procedures, and “genuine” designer fragrances. (Sidenote: he just tapped us on the shoulder to tell us that if we like Kalvin Cline’s Submission, we’ll love Designer Impersonater’s Masochism. Yeah, OK Carl, we’ll be sure to pick up an aerosol spray jug of that at the drugstore later when we grab this week’s issue of Soap Opera Digest for you. We always thought it was the flamingo pheromones that made Carl smell so irresistible, but maybe it's the volatile organic compounds in his knockoff cologne?!) Sorry, we got a little sidetracked there. It’s an issue in an open-concept office. As we were saying, Carl loves a good deal.

That’s why he was stoked to see a coupon for free admission to the Torture Museum with the purchase of admission to his local Medieval Dinner & Tournament venue. Carl’s on-again-off-again-but-mostly-off-again fiancée (Turlana Quackenbush) is maybe just the tiniest smidge of a total sadist? Of course, she’ll want to visit the Torture Museum!!! We’re talking dream date territory on a budget here!!!

Hopefully, this excursion will go better than that time when Carl took her to the Pirate Adventure Dinner Theater for her birthday and she got arrested for smooshing the serving wench’s face into her dish of *boiling* hot Coquilles Saint-Jacques because they “weren’t hot enough”. At least that was her excuse for doing it when she made her one allotted phone call to Carl.

When they got to the Torture Museum, Carl was totally bored. When you’ve seen one torture museum, you’ve seen them all. Right?! It was the usual suspects: the rack, the Judas cradle, the head crusher, the Catherine wheel. *YAWN* Up until this point, Carl had always thought the most terrible thing in a torture museum was “the pear”. In elementary school, he and his friends would always snicker at the perverse description of that one in particular whenever they’d go there for a birthday party. He chuckled at the memory as he watched Turlana being pulled kicking and screaming from the museum as she tried to force one of the museum attendants to try on the head cage “just for fun”. He was just about to follow them when he spotted a gleaming silver instrument out of the corner of his eye that he hadn’t noticed before.

It looked like a modern-day soup spoon. The description read, “Fie! Cometh h're and readeth about this spoon thee no more brain than stone sexy AF bird. This large spoon wast hath used to t'rture people with bawbling heads. People with bawbling'r heads and mouths w're known descendants from royal blood. The mod'rn day soup spoon wast once a well known t'rture device hath used to glean the sooth from falsing mouths of nobil’ty.”

Carl felt SO validated at that moment that he completely forgot about Turlana. He rang us up on the payphone just to ramble on about how he always knew his small head was a sign that he was a descendant of royalty and of noble blood, and that’s why he NEVER chooses the big spoon. “Crap!!! I almost totally forgot about the dinner & tournament!!! I’ll be damned if I’m going to miss out on my bowl of dragon soup and mug of diet grog!!!” Before we could ask if we were supposed to post bail for Turlana if she called, he hung up on us.

The following Monday, we popped into Carl’s office to ask him how his evening went, he gestured to a tacky plastic souvenir flagon filled with carnations on his desk and asked with a satisfied smirk how WE thought it went. (Apparently, he’s got something going on with the Green Knight now?)

“Wait, isn’t that the evil knight?!”

He waved us away and gave us orders to go downstairs and throw out all of the soup spoons from the office kitchen. When we tried to tell him that there were other people in the office who might still want to use them he cut us off and kept repeating “NEVER THE BIG SPOON!!!”

So yeah, if you have a noble tiny head, you might enjoy these specially designed, Never the Big Spoon Little F*cking goodrs. They’re perfectly sized for a small noggin, so they’ll never end up in a torture museum for Lilliputian royal heads.



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