The clock struck 1 p.m.
I sat outside in a lounge chair, observing the world on the other side of my free Canada Day sunglasses.
I heard a sound.
Something strange.
A low growl.
I stopped; with bated breath I looked around my backyard.
There it was again.
Grrrrrrrogifafhfofhhg.
"My God" I whispered.
"It's here."
"The beast has arrived."
I ran inside to my kitchen. I needed to do something, and I needed to do something fast.
I took out a frying pan.
I gently placed two strips of bacon in it.
I cranked the heat.
I stared into the element, waiting, looking.
I placed a hot dog in with the cooking bacon.
The clock changed to 1:07.
The sound came again, louder than before.
I toasted a sesame seed bun.
I spread BBQ sauce on it.
I gingerly placed two pickle slices on said bun.
The room began to shake.
I put the bacon on the bun.
My vision started to go black.
I put the hot dog on the bun.
"GGGGGGTGGIRIRRRRRRRRRRRR."
The sound was getting closer.
I coated my creatition in ketchup.
In that moment, I was the picasso of condiments.
I paused.
I bit.
I chewed.
There was a wail; something was dying.
I bit again.
The sound quieted.
The shaking stopped and my vision returned.
I had won my battle............
I was no longer hungry.
TLDR: Cooked a hot dog in bacon grease, but said grease-producing bacon on hot dog, deliciousness soon followed.
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