Hamburger Hank took three steps into the restaurant, gasped, spun on his heel, and stormed out.
“What’s wrong?” asked French Fry Felicia.
“They sell chicken as if it’s a hamburger!” cried Hamburger Hank. “It’s a travesty!”
“So what?” asked French Fry Felicia.
“I have a real beef with chicken burgers.”
“There’s something inherently comedic about hot dogs,” she mused.
“Maybe it’s their geometry,” he suggested.
“How do you mean?”
“Well,” he said, shrugging, “to put it bluntly, they’re phallic.”
“Hmm,” she said. “No, I don’t think it’s that. I think it’s because they aren’t really made from dogs at all.”