Hoppie's sausage transcends the boundaries of human language. If you try to describe it, a giant hot-link falls out of the sky and smacks you square across the kisser. It's so good it'll make you demand your money back from any other establishment you've ever bought sausage from before. Hoppie's sausage is so scrumdiddliyumptious it'll make you question your sexuality as thoughts of alternative uses for sausage spontaneously flash through your mind: don't worry, this is normal, you're not a sausage-sexual. But if you were, you'd be lobbying congress to legalize sausage-sexual marriage. Only thing is, you'd have to be polygamous because I think there's three different flavors, all hand-packed by the sausage god himself. I pour milk in a bowl of sliced sausage for breakfast instead of cheerios. What did you have for breakfast?
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