"Allo, Chers. It is fo' true my pleasure to make your acquaintance. Have you the beswan de Lucky Dogs? Dey are hot, spicy, and make your digestion happy! Oui! That is not the bull!
Anyway, you ask: how I come to sell the Lucky Dogs. It is the long story. I studied philosophy at Loyola. They have the best philosophy department in the state; no, the south. And I became imbued with the masters: Aristotle, Thomas Aquinas, Duns Scotus, Descartes, Locke, Wittgenstein, Hobbes, Hume. I had difficulties with Marx; understood his frere Harpo better. Bertrand Russell was (how shall I put it?) a colossal bag of wind.
And I became a cynic, much like the Master Cynic Diogenes. I lived in a large tub on Bourbon Street for several months. Two police officers came by to evict me; but stayed and moved in. [Police are natural cynics, seeing the worst of mankind.] One spent her time studying doughnut consumption for her Sergeant's position, and the other one restrung glass beads in his spare time.
The sheer necessities of life compelled me to seek a living, and I ran a modest little confidence racket in which I played on words (a vice for philosophers):
'Mister, I bet $10 that I know where you got your shoes!'
He expresses surprise, and takes me up.
I say, 'You got your shoes on Bourbon Street.'
Usually they pay up, but I get very few return customers.
I remembered one of the professors back in my Wolfpack days talking about Wittgenstein's poker, so I tried a career playing poker in a floating card game. However, my talents obviously were in retail and public relations. This led to my next occupation choice.
Selling Lucky Dogs has allowed me to observe human nature unobtrusively but in the raw. This also positioned me favorably for giving sagacious advice. For example, what can you tell about people when they order with their Lucky Dogs?
If they go for a variety of condiments that suggests a hopeful, giving personality, Mustard alone people are too severe. Ketchup users are unreliable. They really haven't fully commited to eating a sausage. Sauerkraut is generally a good sign; as is chow-chow. Anyone who puts mayonnaise on a defenseless hot dog is open to speculation about possibly being a pervert. Chili augers well; especially if accompanied with onions and cheese. Grilled onions and bell peppers suggest a sophisticated palate. Ladies, these guys are flashy and dance well, but are inclined to be unfaithful. The use of hot dog relish indicates that the person is a simple, straightforward citizen without pretenses.
As for the sausage. The All-American weiner is a good choice if the diner requests a good brand. Andouille is a superior 'dog.' Avoid Red Hots, s'il vous plait. The old-fashioned Polish sausage is best grilled and served either with sauerkraut or grilled onions and peppers. Italian sausage is best unaccompanied. Bratwurst? Ever consider vegetarianism?
Lucky Dogs are suitable for any time of day. One of my customers leaves immediately from Holy Mass and communion to get a Lucky Dog. In a pinch, it is considered good form and a binding oath if sworn in court on a Lucky Dog. And low-rent weddings are often catered by a Lucky Dog man.
Not that there's any sex discrimination in the Lucky Dog line. This field is open to all. I know of one enterprising Lucky Dog saleswoman who has combined Lucky Dogs and step aerobics.
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