What if I were to tell you that one time at a movie theater in St Louis, Missouri, I ordered a hot dog from maybe the highest person ever to successfully show up for a work shift? His eyes looked like blood moons, and he was smirking like he just lied to his mom and got away with it. He couldn’t find the buns so he went into the back and brought out a frozen package, opened it, snagged one and dropped my cooked hot dog inside. When I pointed out it was, uh, frozen, he said, “It seemed cold,” then dumped the hot dog out into a makeshift to-go container, warmed the bun up for what felt like 5 minutes on high and handed it to me. Like I had the bun in one hand and then a to-go container with just a loose hot dog in the other. I should have just taken the frozen bun. What if.
