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Chapter 49 – Well-Alright

November 19, 2012

September 23, 1973 – Steeplechase Park, formerly known as Coney Island, New York

The hotdog vendor was wiping his stand with a rag while the dogs cooked. He spoke while his young assistant put the dogs together.

“That’s why a coupla developers want to turn all of this into condos. Fred Trump and…some other guy. Irish name, I think.”

Maya looked at the gang members down the alley that the vendor had indicated. Eli smiled, knowing that if they tried anything, he had his shockstick and a kick ass lady at his side.

“Well, maybe someone should clean this place up.”

“Maybe so,” she kissed him.

“Ready!”

The vendor’s assistant handed over a couple of fully-loaded dogs. Maya smelled hers.

“Now that’s what I’m talkin’ ’bout, Eli!”

“What? This? It’s just a coney dog, Maya.”

“You found the way to my heart, Baby!”

So much for the coq au vin, the champagne, the hors d’ouvers he’d paid for. A $50 evening could have been a $3 one. You live and learn.

He wondered, not for the last time, if the desire for hot dogs was genetically encoded or some learned sense of gastronomical patriotism.

—–

©2011 Christopher C. Knall

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