Short Story by Eevee V
Once upon a time, in the land called Connecticut, there lived a great hotdog seller named Harold Binkly. This great man lived with his wife, Anita Binkly, and his daughter, Josephine Binkly. This family lived in Madison, Connecticut, making a living through Harold’s hotdog store. He had opened his business during the great Hotdog Boom of 2019, when demand for hotdogs surged and the price of a hotdog went to 20 dollars. With the money from the store, he bought a big house for him and his family and he commissioned the Russian tank manufacturer Uralvagonzavod to build him a tank specifically made to shoot hot dogs. He also opened a ketchup store and a mustard store in Syracuse, New York.
Then the Hotdog Bubble burst, and Harold had been struggling to feed his family with diminished profits. Harold was looking for a way to make some money and pay his bills. Harold was walking through town and saw the town crier, Anita See Irvoe. She was calling out the daily news. Apparently, the legendary Hot Dog from the Bible, kept under the lake in Central Park, had been stolen. The name of the thief was the Red Snapper, an evil creature hailing from the wilderness near Bangor, Maine. The Hotdog Demon was now prowling Central Park, eating any who came near. New York City was offering twenty million dollars for anyone who could defeat the Weiner from the North. With this money, Harold could feed his family for the rest of their lives.
Despite her history of stealing her father’s heart medication, Josephine was left with a neighbor, and the senior Binklies boarded into their hotdog tank and embarked onto I-95. With Connecticutarians looking on from their car windows, they rode west by south, following that beautiful work of public infrastructure. After some time, they reached the Q Bridge. With an echoing screech, a colossal Hotdog Sphinx turned its head to look at the comparatively miniature modified M1 Abrams. Harold and Anita looked in horror, having never seen such a creature before. The frankenstein-frankfurter was made out of three gargantuan hotdogs, two serving as primitive legs and one making up its body and head. With a voice like clashing metal, it spoke these terrible words,
“Answer me these riddles three, you Peddler of Franks, and you may pass over this bridge. Fail to do so, and I’ll gobble you up like a glizzy at a Sunday barbecue”
The Prince of Madison ignored the foul tricks of the Sandy Weiner. he charged at the Sausage Cat, Weiner Sword in hand. With a great swing, the Hotdog Sphinx snatched up Mr. Binkly with surprisingly dextrous hotdog fingers. Knowing that he could not get out, he asked for the first of the three riddles.
“What can go around the world but always stays in one corner?” bellowed the She-Lion. Harold smiled, already knowing the answer. He told the Hotdog Sphinx that it was a postage stamp. With a growl, the great thing moved onto its next question.
“Lose me once, I come back stronger, lose me twice, I’m gone forever. What am I?” said the Egyptian Frank. Now Mr. Binkly thought long and hard, for this riddle was a great deal more difficult than the first. Anita made eye contact with Harold, giving silent support from the tank. After five and a half minutes of silent pondering, he screamed out the answer; the Sphinx was a tooth. The Hotdog Sphinx was taken aback, yet it knew that this final riddle would surely be the end of the Nutmeg Frank Dealer.
“Three men go diving, only two come up with wet hair, how is this possible?” the creature shrieked. Harold’s face fell, as he knew that this was impossible. Scratching his smooth scalp, the Meat-Log Peddler desperately tried to think of something while the mighty Cat-Dog Weiner Fiend started baring its razor sharp hotdog teeth. Anita Binkly knew that Harold would die if she did nothing, but she could not reason out the answer herself. She used all of her knowledge of logic from her time in a highschool debate club, but there was nothing she could think of. Suddenly, a ray of golden sunshine caught on the polished dome that encased Harold Binkly’s struggling brain and blinded Anita. She screamed out,
“He’s bald!” as she averted her eyes. The Hotdog Sphinx gasped, and released its squeezing claws to let Mr. Binkly fall to the ground. The answer to the third riddle had been that the third man was bald, and the Binklys had beaten the Frankfurt Pharoah. The beast explained to the couple why it was there as Harold picked himself. It had been sent by the Red Snapper to prevent their arrival in New York City. The Hotdog Devil of Bangor had heard of their coming, and wanted to stop their quest. Defeated and without purpose, the Hotdog Sphinx dissolved into a pile of sand, and disappeared forever
Have you ever had hot dog soup?