Hot Dogs

         My friend Ariane is a very unusual person. By unusual, I mean completely, certifiably and, most of all, hilariously insane. Most people are surprised that she is my friend; I guess most people think of me as a fairly normal, run-of-the-mill human being, aside from the odd incident involving wee hours of the morning and an incredible quantity of caffeine. Ariane – well, no one would ever think of her as normal.

         First of all, she’s gorgeous. Gorgeous as in “My goodness, didn’t I see you on the cover of Teen People?” That tends to make people assume things about her personality, which is one reason it’s surprising to them when the first thing she asks them in her adorable French accent is: “Were you followed? ’Oo knows you are ’ere?” That’s right – she’s paranoid.

         Which is why, when I answered the phone and heard “Ze eagle ’as flown ze coop,” I knew that her parents had left for vacation and she had the house to herself.

          “Oh, hi Ariane,” I said. “Lonely already?”

          “Shhhhhhh,” she hissed. “Not zo loud,” she explained in a whisper. “Someone might ’ear you.”

          “Oh, sorry. Forgot again,” I replied, rolling my eyes at my little brother Alex, who pressed his mouth into his hand to suppress a fit of giggles.

          “I ’ad to tell you,” she whispered urgently. “Zere ’as been a new development.” I paused expectantly, as I knew she was hoping I would. “Zey are trying a new tactic,” she announced triumphantly, as though bestowing a great secret. “Ze tactic is...’ot dogs.”

         I paused for a moment, confused. “Hot dogs?”

          “’Ot dogs.” I said nothing, biting my lip to contain my laughter. “Zey are trying to kill me with zese filthy, filthy ’ot dogs!”

          “No!” I exclaimed, disgusted by the level to which “they” would stoop.

          “Oui!” she insisted. “I ’ave received new informa-se-on zat zey are now using ’ot dogs to wage war on ze people.”

          “What an outrage!”

          “Of course! Zese fiends ’ave no sense of decency!” She wasn’t whispering anymore, completely carried away by her story. “My muzzer was almost killed! My muzzer, ’oo ’as never ’urt anyone!”

         What? This sounded serious. “What happened, exactly?”

          “Eet was just yesterday,” she told me solemnly. “I was out walking in ze city with my parents. My fazzer was ’ungry, so we stopped at an ’ot dog stand.” Big mistake. I doubted that anyone was really out to get Ariane, but those hot dogs could probably kill you inadvertantly. Ariane whispered dramatically. “We did not know, zat ’ot dog man must ’ave been one of zem.” She paused for emphasis before continuing.

         “Zat fiend, ’e put too much ketchup on ze bun! Ze bun was too slippery! My muzzer was talking to my fazzer. When ’e tried to eat ze ’ot dog, eet was squeezed out of ze bun and flew through ze air! Ze ’ot dog struck ’er in ze face!” My diaphragm ached from containing my laughter. “Eet poked ’er in ze eye! She could see nothink. She was screaming, ‘I am blinded! I am blinded!’ She could not see where she was going, so she seized ze ’ot dog stand, but eet was too flimsy! Ze flimsy ’ot dog stand collapsed! Eet fell on top of ’er, spilling ze ’ot dogs everywhere!”

          “How awful!” I said, trying to get control over my respiratory system.

          “Ze foolish ’ot dog man wanted my muzzer to pay for all ze ’ot dogs, but she refused. Though she was much weakened by ’er accident, she denounced ’im for ’is evil inten-se-ons. Zat man ’ad ze nerve to laugh at ’er, as though she were joking! We went right ’ome, and she went straight to ’er bed.”

          “What a relief! I was afraid she’d been hurt!”

          “Oh, but she was!” Ariane insisted. “I ’ad to revive ’er with my special antidote!”

          “Antidote?” I asked, my voice barely steady.

          “Of course!” she replied proudly. “Everyone knows, bratwurst is ze antidote to everything!”