I'm sick of eating turkey and leek soup, so today I spent one of my final few bills on the twin hot dog special at a gas station.
Two fifty gets you two franks and lots of fixins. I loaded mine with sauerkraut, banana peppers, and mustard.
Two dollars fifty for a lunch isn't half bad. There was once a day when I would have balked at such a meal, but it was hot and salty and had a kick.
In William Least Heat Moon's Blue Highways, he visits a monastery and is shocked to find that the monks eat hot dogs at lunch, rather than some gruel or primitive stew. Since then, I've associated hot dogs with austerity. I suppose some associate them with baseball, but for me it's just monks and gas stations, all the way down the line.
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