ENGLISH CULT BOOK OF FABULOUSNESS

A New York Hot Dog Stand

After a long days work, the sun finally retreats behind towering skyscrapers as it beams its grand finale of vivid reds, oranges and purples. As the sky gradually darkens, the moon starts to take its place and adorns the ebony canvas with glittering star novas that shone so bright, its blinding. Bright neon lights showered the city- it is time for the awakening of the peak hour.

Sea of cars that seemed limitless filled the rain-kissed streets. A symphony of orchestrated horns in different octaves and pitches sung in an odd and disruptive harmony. Pedestrians walked with their camaraderies, laughing at each others inside jokes. Click clacks of their shoes further pack the streets with life. Vendors emerged, carts with creaky wheels announced its arrival to save the empty stomachs of hungry customers. The savoury redolence of entrées linger in the air as the cart rolls to its designated area.

There it is, the hot dog stand. It's neon lights shaped the word "HOT DOG" shone ablaze colours of red and yellow, with a cartoon of a hot dog in a pair of sunglasses and a thumb up. The best of all, the scrumptious aroma that wafts up to noses far and wide, reeling them in like fish out of water.

Sausages slowly and gracefully danced around and around the grill to the melodious sound of sizzling and fizzling. Heavenly grease coated the sausages evenly, just enough to glisten under the dazzling light that showcases the dancers on the warm grill. The sausages performed flamboyantly in front of its mouthwatering guests.

When the man, whose sweat pearled around his forehead, took his tongs and picks up the golden brown meaty deliciousness, he sandwiched it between a fluffy bun that was carefully and precisely cut in half. The combo was already at its finest, however, it's yet to be perfection without its not-so-secret ingredients- mustard, vermillion ketchup, luscious lettuce and diced onions.

With the man's most prized masterpiece as of yet, he cautiously wraps his creation in a crisp wrapper and packed it up in a decorative box. He was satisfied. Outstretched hands with money were flailing just to get a grasp at one of these babies. It was done.

His hot dogs, 121 to be precise, were all sold within an hour and a half. He plastered a grateful smile and ended the days work, contented. He is a hero, our hero of the New York
streets and will forever be a hero to all edacious beings.