They Plump When You Cook Them

Driving to church every Sunday we get to see "hot dog man." Occasionally "hot dog man" is not there, but "mustard girl" is there in his stead. Both hold signs advertising the two chili-dogs, fries and a drink for $3.99 at The Dog House. Their menu also apparently includes hot dogs, coneys, and frito pies (at least that's what the painted window says). We've never eaten there, as hot dogs are not something that we generally like to pay for since I can easily make them just as tasty at home for much less money. I've only ever been tempted to eat there on Sunday's due to feeling bad for the poor soul stuck in a food related costume on a hot afternoon. Unfortunately I never see them on other days of the week because I'm never in that part of town at lunchtime on any other day of the week. Being burdened with steady employment unlike "hot dog man" and "mustard girl" I don't get to wander the city looking fight with illegal immigrants for jobs that pay cash and don't ask questions. I'd also never go there on a Sunday due to my aversion to Sabbath breaking and buying questionable meat products in a strip mall.
One exceptionally hot Sunday afternoon we saw "hot dog man" out enthusiastically waving his sign, and stopping every 30 seconds to drink from a large styrofoam cup. Apparently free soda is one of the fringe benefits to day labor. On the way home from Church the weather had gotten much hotter and we were worried about poor "hot dog man" cooking in the hot sun, and wondered how much enthusiasm he would have left. But much to our eye's terror "hot dog man" had been replaced by "obese hot dog girl." Despite the horror of an under-dressed and over-fed homeless girl trying to cover her ample posterior with the "one size fits most" hot dog costume, I was able to make a witty remark at another's expense when I leaned over to Mrs. Morty and said "It's true. They do plump when you cook them."