Sheldon picks up a fork and begins, with surgical precision, to separate the sausages. He creates a one-centimeter gap between each link.
You’ve contaminated the entire data set. I’ll be having a dry bowl of Cheerios. In the garage. Where the variables are predictable.
Don’t be absurd. I don’t have a sufficient dowry of ketchup packets.
(To himself) Thirty-seven. Thirty-eight. The lack of milk introduces a desirable auditory crunch feedback loop. The sausages can keep their chaos.
(Looks up, deadpan) I call dibs on the prettiest one.
Episode Overview: "A Therapist, a Comic Book, and a Breakfast Sausage"
(Without looking up from paper) Son. Eat a sausage or go to school hungry. Your choice.
There was a sausage schism. I chose neutrality.