You are laying in the steamer next to several real hot dogs. At least you assume that they are real hot dogs. Perhaps all the vendors customers end up consumed by other customers who replace them in the heating pan. You actually feel your weiner form quiver--or maybe it's that the steam has increased and you're starting to sizzle.
"Two red hots,please," you hear a male voice ask.
Light. The lid of the cart is open, and tongs grab you and stick you in a bun. You look up helplessly into the vendor's face as he covers you with ketchup, pickle relish, onions, and mustard. You are blinded by the condiments. You feel yourself being lifted up. And feel the bun squeeze tight against you. You hear the cash register, and the voice says, "Keep the change."
You feel hot breath against your end. Lips push down. Sharp teeth cut. Oh, if only you could scream.