How well do you know your favorite cookhouse contraptions? See if you can guess today's gadget and check back next week for the answer, and to see if you've won a most-awesome prize.
Here are a few shots at this week's trickster, add yours to the comment box below:
- Kitty-Korner-Butt Litter Box
- Sliced Bread Serving Dish
- Pet Bear Chow Bowl
What the heck was this? Find out last week's answer (and winner!) after the jump.
Last Week's Answer: Condiment Gun
Congratulations to Sara Bissell, who correctly guessed the gadget from last week. As a most awesome prize, Sara will get a mention in the gadget description below, through beautiful, thoughtful prose.
If you like this story, consider signing up for our email newsletters.
SHOW ME HOW
You have successfully signed up for your selected newsletter(s) - please keep an eye on your mailbox, we're movin' in!
As yellow mustard, I'm the afterthought.
I mean, it's always, ketchup and mustard. People always want ketchup. I'm the extra, the maybe, the ugly guy at the party you had to invite 'cause you felt sorry for him, and he's kind of ketchup's friend, and maybe this time someone will at least talk to him so he doesn't feel like a worthless, yellow lump of "me, too." Now, there's this cool condiment gun. Sure, I was excited at first. It beats the tubby squirt bottle I'm used to. Then I see the color. Ketchup red. Where do I come in? On the trigger and the cap. Like someone forgot it wasn't just a ketchup gun. Whoops, better get that mustard color on here somewhere.
Sara Bissell, I know you understand me. I know you want to get your boyfriend's kid this condiment gun and that's cool, but let's talk about us for a second. Sure, you're a carbon-based life form and I'm . . . not, but that doesn't mean we can't have feelings for each other. If you have even a shred of sympathy for me, I beg you Sara, I beg you to -- kill ketchup. Yes, kill him. Kill him with the very gun he's being squirted out from. Shoot him in his blood-red ketchup-y face, watch his ketchup blood splatter onto the patio, hear the children scream, stand over him as the last of his wretched ketchup life drains from his ketchup body.
That is, unless you like ketchup. Then Sara, I guess this gun's for you.