The dangers of hot dogs have been in the news again recently. In this piece from Out Of The Gutter’s Flash Fiction Offensive, Bruce Harris shows another way they can lead to harm.
Two things: hot dogs and music. Loud music.
My son Aaron’s twelve. Dealt a rough hand at birth, Down’s syndrome. Some pity him. We’ll have nothing of it. Aaron’s a great kid with an enthusiasm for life unequaled by any other twelve-year old. The kid can pack away hot dogs. I think he ate his first the same week he cut teeth. Who knows, in a couple of years, Aaron may earn his 15 minutes of fame winning Nathan’s July 4th hot dog eating contest. He’s happiest, though with earphones affixed and heavy metal music blaring so that the pounding bass sets off car alarms a block away.
Some pity my wife and me. You play the cards you are dealt, though every now and then I grab one from up my sleeve. I don’t have time for regrets. I make time for life lessons. Aaron comes home from school, his smile nearly stretches to his ears, tells me as only he could that he’s learning to add and subtract. His homework assignment is to spend some money, get change, count it and record it.