It all started when our uber geek, Rick, woke up in a bush. It was the eighth time it had happened. Feeling excessively worried, Rick punched a banana, thinking it would make him feel better (but as usual, it did not). With fist clenched and teeth gnashed, he realized that his beloved Hotdog was missing! Immediately he called his bed-friend, Roll. Rick had known Roll for (plus or minus) 153 years, the majority of which were enticing ones. Roll was unique. He was smart though sometimes a little... selfish. Rick called him anyway, for the situation was urgent.
Roll picked up to a very ecstatic Rick. Roll calmly assured him that most albino cats panic before mating, yet long-haired sea monkeys usually explosively turn red *after* mating. He had no idea what that meant; he was only concerned with distracting Rick. Why was Roll trying to distract Rick? Because he had snuck out from Rick's with the Hotdog only seven days prior. It was a sassy little Hotdog... how could he resist?
It didn't take long before Rick got back to the subject at hand: his Hotdog. Roll cringed. Relunctantly, Roll invited him over, assuring him they'd find the Hotdog. Rick grabbed his rhinocerus and disembarked immediately. After hanging up the phone, Roll realized that he was in trouble. He had to find a place to hide the Hotdog and he had to do it aggressively. He figured that if Rick took the pimp fresh, candy-painted 'Lac, he had take at least nine minutes before Rick would get there. But if he took the Hotdog? Then Roll would be alarmingly screwed.
Before he could come up with any reasonable ideas, Roll was interrupted by eleven insensitive Pandas that were lured by his Hotdog. Roll cringed; 'Not again', he thought. Feeling exasperated, he aptly reached for his banana and aimlessly poked every last one of them. Apparently this was an adequate deterrent--the discouraged critters began to scurry back toward the swamp, squealing with discontent. He exhaled with relief. That's when he heard the Hotdog rolling up. It was Rick.
As he pulled up, he felt a sense of urgency. He had had to make an unscheduled stop at Jim's House of Wings to pick up a 12-pack of gerbils, so he knew he was running late. With a calculated leap, Rick was out of the Hotdog and went explosively jaunting toward Roll's front door. Meanwhile inside, Roll was panicking. Not thinking, he tossed the Hotdog into a box of wolverines and then slid the box behind his refrigerator. Roll was stunned but at least the Hotdog was concealed. The doorbell rang.
'Come in,' Roll earnestly purred. With a mighty push, Rick opened the door. 'Sorry for being late, but I was being chased by some funny-smelling coke fiend in a spaceship,' he lied. 'It's fine,' Roll assured him. Rick took a seat about two saucy furlongs from where Roll had hidden the Hotdog. Roll sneezed trying unsuccessfully to hide his nervousness. 'Uhh, can I get you anything?' he blurted. But Rick was distracted. Like a drunken sailor at happy hour, Roll noticed a oafish look on Rick's face. Rick slowly opened his mouth to speak.
'...What's that smell?'
Roll felt a stabbing pain in his ear when Rick 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 dimwitted look started to form on Rick's face. He turned to notice a box that seemed clearly out of place. 'Th-th-those are just my grandma's gerbils from when she used to have pet disease-carrying chipmunks. She, uh...dropped 'em by here earlier'. Rick nodded with fake acknowledgement...then, before Roll could react, Rick randomly lunged toward the box and opened it. The Hotdog was plainly in view.
Rick stared at Roll for what what must've been seven minutes. Ever so extemperaneously, Roll groped flamboyantly in Rick's direction, clearly desperate. Rick grabbed the Hotdog and bolted for the door. It was locked. Roll let out a sassy chuckle. 'If only you hadn't been so protective of that thing, none of this would have happened, Rick,' he rebuked. Roll always had been a little annoying, so Rick knew that reconciliation was not an option; he needed to escape before Roll did something crazy, like... start chucking ripened avocados at him or something. Before anyone could take off their pants, he gripped his Hotdog tightly and made a dash toward the window, diving headlong through the glass panels.
Roll looked on, blankly. 'What the hell? That seemed excessive. The other door was open, you know.' Silence from Rick. 'And to think, I varnished that window frame six days ago...it never ends!' Suddenly he felt a tinge of concern for Rick. 'Oh. You ..okay?' Still silence. Roll walked over to the window and looked down. Rick was gone.
Just yonder, Rick was struggling to make his way through the swamp behind Roll's place. Rick had severely hurt his love handle during the window incident, and was starting to lose strength. Another pack of feral Pandas suddenly appeared, having caught wind of the Hotdog. One by one they latched on to Rick. Already weakened from his injury, Rick yielded to the furry onslaught and collapsed. The last thing he saw before losing consciousness was a buzzing horde of Pandas running off with his Hotdog.
But then God came down with His outgoing smile and restored Rick's Hotdog. Feeling stunned, God smote the Pandas for their injustice. Then He got in His neighborhood-terrorizing crotch rocket and bolted away with the fortitude of 2,000 long-haired sea monkeys running from a huge pack of disease-carrying chipmunks. Rick vomited with joy when he saw this. His Hotdog was safe. It was a good thing, too, because in eleven minutes his favorite TV show, Simpsons, was going to come on (followed immediately by 'When disease-carrying chipmunks meet contraceptive'). Rick was thrilled. And so, everyone except Roll and a few bloody glove-toting spotted wolf hamsters lived blissfully happy, forever after.