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Corn Dog Man?!

I was drinking at *** *** *** (which I haven’t reviewed yet, so its name is secret) and this guy walked in carrying what looked to be a Tupperware container of cat litter. He started yelling “Mumble mumble Blah mumble!” as he walked up the bar towards the other door. My boy Brian immediately turned to me and asked “Did he say Donuts?!”

I hadn’t a clue. I waited until walked the length of the bar and then headed back towards us. On his second pass I heard what he had to say. It was: “Corn Dogs! Corn Dogs!”

“Holy shit! That guy is selling corn dogs?!” Brian looked excited.

“I guess,” I responded. I called to him. “Hey!”

“Corn dogs?”

“How much?”

“One for a buck, six for five.” Sounded like the tamale man.

“One-“

“Six, here’s five,” Brian interrupted, handing the strange man a fiver. I tossed a dollar asking for just one, from Brian, not the corn dog man.

“Mustard or Aioli?”

“Mustard!”

“Aioli!”

“Aioli regular or Aioli Cajun?”

“Regular!” Brian was faster than I, I’d did asked for Cajun.

The man then opened his Tupperware and set two paper boats on the table. “Mustard’ll be this one and Aioli’ll be this one.”

He squeezed out regular yellow mustard onto the left boat and this grey-yellow sauce onto the other. He then pulled out three home-made corn dogs from his bucket and set them on the right boat. Three more home-made dogs onto the left. Brian paid and he booked like a fuck. We sat there a sec, taking it all in. We then feasted, three dogs each.

If he comes to a bar near you, don’t wait, don’t hesitate: Buy at least ten dollars worth of dogs and sauce, tip like it’s Hot Doug’s, and enjoy. You can thank me later.