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Desc:Turn your boring hotdog into a man to eat
Tags:man, children, hotdog, why the terrorists hate us
Submitted:Jack Cooper
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Comment count is 30
Why do I feel like I'm going to see this in some BDSM porn soon?
Caminante Nocturno
I'm reminds of the fingernail removal device from Higurashi.

I thought of Higurashi, too!

Iron Maiden and white trash, together at last!
everyone involved feels awful and nobody is fooled.

It was her last 20 dollars. To be honest it should have gone towards the rent. They were already a week behind. It wouldn’t be much longer until she would come home from Walgreens to find a bright red eviction notice taped to the door. But at 3 AM she awoke from a fitful sleep in the formless void of her living room, her television’s snowy picture casting a blue pall on the sofa, and she saw the commercial. This was it, she thought -- this would be her child’s best birthday ever. She would give him this. And for at least a little while he would be happy. For at least one night she would not hear him from his tiny bedroom, sobbing himself to sleep.

For at least one night maybe she wouldn’t cry, either.

It was hard to get to the library. The buses that took her between her two jobs didn’t pass very close and their schedules didn’t leave her much time to walk. But she did -- three miles each way. Waiting for one of the computers to free up made her late to her shift at Burger King, and she knew her boss would threaten dismissal again. All she could do was hope he wouldn’t follow through.

She went online and ordered it. The perfect gift. He would love it. He would love her.

It came over a week late. His birthday had come and gone. But she knew the gift was on its way, and saved some hot dogs for when it arrived. It was hard for her to justify cooking him peas for dinner when there were still four hot dogs left in the fridge, but she suffered his grousing patiently. He would understand.

When it finally did come, she wrapped it lovingly in newspaper and waited for him to get home from school. She spent the whole day fussing with the construction paper ribbon, getting it just right. This was important. He would love it so much.

He walked through the door with bruises on his face. This wasn’t the first time. She ran to him, momentarily forgetting the gift.

“Oh baby, what happened?”

“It was those kids again, mom. I--” and then he broke down. Weeping, snotty, a heaving 80 pound heap on the floor. She hugged him close and cooed. “They can’t hurt you here. They can’t hurt you here. Oh, no.”

When he was calm again, she gave him the package. “For your birthday,” she said. “I’m sorry it’s late.”

His face lit up. He sniffled back some mucus and tore into the wrapping. She was so happy. Happy to see him happy. That was all she ever wanted.

But the smile quickly faded. He stared at the packaging. Confused. He didn’t understand. “What is it?” he asked.

“It’s for hot dogs. It makes them into funny shapes. Look.” She indicated the pictures on the back of the box. Man-shaped hot dogs, covered in condiments. Smiling children. “Doesn’t it look so fun?”

The child sat there mouth agape, but snapped back quickly. He made a grimacing sort of half-smile and said, “yeah. Fun.”

She cooked the hot dogs for him in the microwave. Then she took one of them, showed him how to use the device, and let him do the others. He worked with a strange sort of focus, looking down the whole time. When the last hot dog was ready, she took one in her hand and spread its limbs, then made it do a little dance on the grimy table. She made some funny noises and the boy laughed despite himself.

“You’re so weird, mom.”

The woman paused. Still holding the hot dog she hugged her son. “Happy birthday,” she said. “I know it isn’t much.”

“It’s ok,” he said.

She pulled back and looked at him. “I love you so much. I’m sorry about those boys. I’m sorry…” she trailed off, knowing she would break down if she continued. The truth was, she was sorry for everything.

She let him eat all four hot dogs and didn’t tell him it was the last of the food. She could go just one night without eating.

When he went to bed she told him again how much she loved him and wished him again a happy birthday. And once again he smiled. But deep in the night she heard that same muffled sobbing from his bedroom, and for another night she felt the cloying insanity of despair eating at her from the inside out.
Stars of sadness.


Happy Hotdog Man Device?... No such thing.

Fuck you. Happy Hotdog Man was my only friend growing up. I... I still miss him.

Patient Property
I honestly hate you

Jesus christ, Knuckles.

I hope you're some kind of writer or something.

Robin Kestrel
^ for Knuckles

Shanghai Tippytap
i hate you for making up that family and making them go through that life

Portal of evil indeed.

I miss my mom.

If Flannery O'Connor was alive, she would write whole novels about the Happy Hotdog Man Device.

I'm with Shanghai on this.


Yay, this comment!

Something tells me that entire new avenues of voodoo doll have now been opened.
Everything about this is great, but my stars are for the Ketchup Critter and Mustard Monster.
Old People
Next time I deploy, Ketchup Critter is going on the end of my M4.

Once again, a youtube user decides it's better to remove a video than to be associated with poeTV. Is this the same video?

teenage mutant lisa turtle
I googled one up on College Humor

I did the l'il "Update Dead Link" thingie.

Well, then.

Jane Error
...or, y'know--just use a knife.
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