Hot Dog Stand
It was quiet on the porch. A white car drove down the street. For a brief moment the sunlight was thrown back from its polished surface.
"That was a damn good hot dog."
"You got that one right."
Behind the two men, inside the dark corners of the house, a clock stroke the hour.
"Poor bastard."
"What d'you mean?"
"The guy who is selling hot dogs."
"But they are some fine hot dogs." He reached for his package of cigarettes.
"Want one?"
"No, thanks. I mean all he does is selling rotten hot dogs. All day long and every single day. It's like his stand contains a whole world to him."
"Well, do you believe he leads a lesser life?"
"That was a damn good hot dog."
"You got that one right."
Behind the two men, inside the dark corners of the house, a clock stroke the hour.
"Poor bastard."
"What d'you mean?"
"The guy who is selling hot dogs."
"But they are some fine hot dogs." He reached for his package of cigarettes.
"Want one?"
"No, thanks. I mean all he does is selling rotten hot dogs. All day long and every single day. It's like his stand contains a whole world to him."
"Well, do you believe he leads a lesser life?"
pluswit - 22. Mär, 10:25
