Hotdogs...

Hotdogs
Boy,
do
I
love
hotdogs!
There
is
nothing
in
the
whole
wide
world
that
I
would
rather
eat
than
hotdogs!
It
should
just
rain
hotdogs
from
the
sky.
I
want
to
study
hard-­‐
both
day
and
night,
eating
all
of
the
hotdogs
that
I
can
eat,
in
and
out
of
school,
so
that
when
I
grow
up
I
could
become
a
great
Genetic
Physicist.
I
would
be
the
very
Cirst
human
being
to
manipulate
the
genes
of
chickens,
cows,
pigs,
and
corn
in
order
to
design
a
whole
plethora
of
hotdog
plants
so
that
we
could
grow
hotdogs,
even
on
the
moon.
Although
we
would
probably
need
more
surface
area
to
grow
on
in
order
to
supply
hotdogs
to
meet
our
gluttonous
demands
on
our
very
own
planet
Earth.
Why
with
all
of
the
stores,
stadiums
and
gas
stations
in
the
world,
just
imagine
all
of
the
jobs
that
could
be
created
to
plant,
grow,
harvest
sort,
ship,
manufacture,
package,
distribute,
cook,
and
sell
hotdogs.
And
that’s
not
to
mention
the
jobs
created
from
picking
up,
hauling
off,
and
processing
the
waste
and
refuse
from
the
consumers
of
hotdogs.
We
would,
most
likely,
need
to
create
a
whole
other
moon
for
agricultural
use-­‐
a
lot
like
making
more
land
in
Florida
by
hauling
sand
and
rock
out
beyond
the
beach
to
sell
to
trust-­‐fund
babies
who
pretend
to
be
builders
and
try
to
conceal
their
love
for
hotdogs,
while
building
condominiums,
for
people
to
buy
who
do
not
know
any
better,
but
love
hotdogs
too.
Only
we
would
use
the
garbage
accumulated
from
the
lunches
of
the
various
trades,
and
the
trash
we
import
from
all
of
the
restaurants
and
people
of
Canada,
that
also
love
to,
sell,
cook,
and
eat
hotdogs,
bond
it
all
together
with
used
aluminum
foil
from
ovens,
grills,
and
packaging,
so
that
the
man
made
terra-­‐Cirma
would
have
plenty
of
different
spices
and
herbal
qualities
to
create
many
different
Clavors
of
hotdogs.
We
could
even
have
different
kinds
of
hotdogs
depending
on
what
part
of
Regurgeterra
that
they
were
grown
and
harvested
from.
I
mean,
hey,
we
have
got
plenty
of
Mustard
weed
already.
Why
not?
Right?
I
mean,
they
get
two
dollars
for
a
hotdog.
Zachery
S.
Polk/Prospect
Studio

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