Ballpark Franks

My wife said she was really,
really hungry for a good hot-
dog, so she googled hotdog

and read through all the lists
of the best hotdogs. She settled
on a variety of Ballpark Franks

even though it wasn’t in the top
five. She said she liked the ring
of it, “Hey, get ya hotdog here.

Hotdogs, hotdogs, get ya really
hot hotdog here. Get ya Ballpark
frank.” She has taken over the

grilling but she said that for this
Fourth she wanted me to do the
dogs on the pottery pig hibachi,

which sits on a table overlook-
ing the pond as decoration but
which hasn’t been used in years

to which the growing green moss
on the side of the pinkish pig
would testify. I said, “You want

me to do “all beef” hotdogs on
a pig.” She said, “It’s okay. I have
kosher pickles to go on the dogs.”

I said, “You could have gotten
kosher dogs.” She said, “They don’t
have the same ring as Ballpark Franks.”

“Dear, you don’t even like baseball.”

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