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A Fond Memory


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A Fond Memory

By Steven Keiths

?See here kids,? said the exuberant father as he pulled his two young boys over to the hot dog cart shaded by a large, red and yellow striped umbrella. ?When I was a kid, these only cost a nickel. Wow, look at the price now?a dollar seventy-five. But still, they?re the best hot dogs you can buy. Not like those ones you buy in a package at the grocery store. I?m going to get two. How many do you kids want??

The two boys looked at each other, seemed to silently communicate, then both held up two fingers.

?You sure you can eat two apiece?? asked the dad. Both nodded their heads. ?Okay, then two it is.?

All three of them bit into their hot dogs.

?Oh, God, aren?t these great? You can feel a crunch when you bite into them. They?re nothing like those store-bought ones. When you bite into those you feel like you just bit into a bar of softened butter. See how juicy these are, too? No, sirree, now this is what I call a hot dog.?

The two little boys again glanced at each other and shrugged their shoulders. They were not aware there was epicurean judgment to be made about hot dogs. They just gulped theirs down, and watched their father delighting in a childhood memory.

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