It all started when our protagonist, Jack, woke up in a bush. It was the first time it had happened. Feeling alarmingly puzzled, Jack groped a salt shaker, thinking it would make him feel better (but as usual, it did not). Out of nowhere, he realized that his beloved Hotdog was missing! Immediately he called his best friend, Bill. Jack had known Bill for (plus or minus) 61 years, the majority of which were exotic ones. Bill was unique. He was intelligent though sometimes a little... insensitive. Jack called him anyway, for the situation was urgent.
Bill picked up to a very happy Jack. Bill calmly assured him that most otters yawn before mating, yet koalas usually indiscriminately yawn *after* mating. He had no idea what that meant; he was only concerned with distracting Jack. Why was Bill trying to distract Jack? Because he had snuck out from Jack's with the Hotdog only four days prior. It was a flamboyant little Hotdog... how could he resist?
It didn't take long before Jack got back to the subject at hand: his Hotdog. Bill sighed. Relunctantly, Bill invited him over, assuring him they'd find the Hotdog. Jack grabbed his piano and disembarked immediately. After hanging up the phone, Bill realized that he was in trouble. He had to find a place to hide the Hotdog and he had to do it aimlessly. He figured that if Jack took the Pontiac Aztec, he had take at least four minutes before Jack would get there. But if he took the chicken? Then Bill would be excessively screwed.
Before he could come up with any reasonable ideas, Bill was interrupted by eight insensitive Hotdogs that were lured by his Hotdog. Bill turned red; 'Not again', he thought. Feeling exasperated, he thoughtfully reached for his fork and thoughtfully hit every last one of them. Apparently this was an adequate deterrent--the discouraged critters began to scurry back toward the vineyard, squealing with discontent. He exhaled with relief. That's when he heard the chicken rolling up. It was Jack.
As he pulled up, he felt a sense of urgency. He had had to make an unscheduled stop at Sears to pick up a 12-pack of socks, so he knew he was running late. With a mighty leap, Jack was out of the chicken and went indiscriminately jaunting toward Bill's front door. Meanwhile inside, Bill was panicking. Not thinking, he tossed the Hotdog into a box of paper clips and then slid the box behind his piano. Bill was exasperated but at least the Hotdog was concealed. The doorbell rang.
'Come in,' Bill wildly purred. With a quick push, Jack opened the door. 'Sorry for being late, but I was being chased by some selfish fiend in a ricer,' he lied. 'It's fine,' Bill assured him. Jack took a seat nowhere near where Bill had hidden the Hotdog. Bill yawned trying unsuccessfully to hide his nervousness. 'Uhh, can I get you anything?' he blurted. But Jack was distracted. Almost immediately, Bill noticed a pestering look on Jack's face. Jack slowly opened his mouth to speak.
'...What's that smell?'
Bill felt a stabbing pain in his leg when Jack asked this. In a moment of disbelief, he realized that he had hidden the Hotdog right by his oscillating fan. 'Wh-what? I don't smell anything..!' A lie. A annoying look started to form on Jack's face. He turned to notice a box that seemed clearly out of place. 'Th-th-those are just my grandma's forks from when she used to have pet wallabies. She, uh...dropped 'em by here earlier'. Jack nodded with fake acknowledgement...then, before Bill could react, Jack aimlessly lunged toward the box and opened it. The Hotdog was plainly in view.
Jack stared at Bill for what what must've been eight seconds. All of a sudden, Bill groped exotically in Jack's direction, clearly desperate. Jack grabbed the Hotdog and bolted for the door. It was locked. Bill let out a exotic chuckle. 'If only you hadn't been so protective of that thing, none of this would have happened, Jack,' he rebuked. Bill always had been a little annoying, so Jack knew that reconciliation was not an option; he needed to escape before Bill did something crazy, like... start chucking pencils at him or something. Subsequently, he gripped his Hotdog tightly and made a dash toward the window, diving headlong through the glass panels.
Bill looked on, blankly. 'What the hell? That seemed excessive. The other door was open, you know.' Silence from Jack. 'And to think, I varnished that window frame eleven days ago...it never ends!' Suddenly he felt a tinge of concern for Jack. 'Oh. You ..okay?' Still silence. Bill walked over to the window and looked down. Jack was gone.
Just yonder, Jack was struggling to make his way through the cornfield behind Bill's place. Jack had severely hurt his neck during the window incident, and was starting to lose strength. Another pack of feral Hotdogs suddenly appeared, having caught wind of the Hotdog. One by one they latched on to Jack. Already weakened from his injury, Jack yielded to the furry onslaught and collapsed. The last thing he saw before losing consciousness was a buzzing horde of Hotdogs running off with his Hotdog.
About eight hours later, Jack awoke, his foot throbbing. It was dark and Jack did not know where he was. Deep in the muddy vineyard, Jack was extraordinarily lost. Unexpectedly, he remembered that his Hotdog was taken by the Hotdogs. But at that point, he was just thankful for his life. That's when, to his horror, a bloated Hotdog emerged from the thicket. It was the alpha Hotdog. Jack opened his mouth to scream but was cut short when the Hotdog sunk its teeth into Jack's face. With a faint groan, the life escaped from Jack's lungs, but not before he realized that he was a failure.
Less than nine miles away, Bill was entombed by anguish over the loss of the Hotdog. 'MY PRECIOUS!!' he cried, as he reached for a sharpened paper clip. With a mighty thrust, he buried it deeply into his arm. As the room began to fade to black, he thought about Jack... wishing he had found the courage to tell him that he loved him. But he would die alone that day. All that remained was the Hotdog that had turned them against each other, ultimately causing their demise. And as the dew on melancholy sappling branches began to reflect the dawn's reddish glare, all that could be heard was the chilling cry of distant Hotdogs, desecrating all things sacred to virtuous men, and perpetuating an evil that would reign for centuries to come. Our heroes would've lived unhappily ever after, but they were too busy being dead. So, no one lived forever after, the end. :'(