Hot Diggity Dog! A Craven Danger Mystery

“Please to bask in the glory of my extraordinary efforts, my friend!”

“What the heck is that guy in a sweat about, Betty?”

“He wants you to buy one of his hot dogs, Mr. Danger.”

“Hot dogs? On a day like today? In this heat you could fry an egg before it ever got a chance to hit the pan. Ice cream piled high on a cone would be a much better plan.”

“Also,” continued the vendor, “I have the many toppings. I am the king of the much heralded condiments and will indulge you in any way you see fit! I will enlighten your taste buds and make you feel you are a prince among wienerwurst connoisseurs!”

“Weinerwurst? Well, why didn’t ya say so! That’s a horse of a different color.”

“There’s more truth in those words than you may know, Mr. Danger.”

“Betty, just think. Me, a weinerwurst connoisseur!”

“It’s still just a hot dog, Mr. Danger.”

“Not the way he says it, Betty. I’ll take two! With mustard, ketchup, sauerkraut, onion, relish and just a pinch of salt. My doc says I gotta cut down on the stuff. Bad for the high blood pressure.”

“Coming up, my friend,” said the vendor.  “I will dazzle you with my many delights!”

“Dazzle away, my sweaty friend.”

“And just what on earth is your blood pressure all pumped up about?” said Betty. “Your biggest concern lately was where ta put your new desk phone. To your right or to your left. Those  dear, brave boys on D-Day itself had nothin’ on you.”

“Let me explain somethin’, Betty. If I had to answer the phone with my right hand, while some vicious lummox is kicking down my door at the same time, I wouldn’t be able to get in a good shot. I can’t even blow my nose with my left hand.. But if I answer the phone with my left hand - and not give myself another black eye in the process - then I can get my phone call and take down a door-kickin’ hooligan. Bam! One less murderous thug lurking in the shadows of this great metropolis! You’re welcome, New York!”

“Murderous thug?” said Betty. “The only murderous thug kicking down your door lately is that collector from the electric company. And if I hadn’t a paid him off outta my own pocket you’d be shootin’ in the dark. As usual.”

“May I be so pleased as to offer the cold beverages to such a fine couple as yourselves?” said the vendor. 

“Couple?” said Craven. “Who you callin’ a couple? We’re associates!”

“I apologize for my mass confusion, my dear fellow,” said the vendor. “I would not have suspected you were other than an adorable twosome having a lovely Sunday stroll in the park.”

“Well,” said Craven. “I sure wouldn’t mind her scrambling my eggs sometime and I’d even sweeten Betty’s late night tea if she wanted. But that don’t make us a couple!”

“Why, Mr. Danger,” said Betty. “That’s about the most romantic thing ya ever said to me. And I got a funny feelin’ you don’t even know what ya said.”

“Romantic? Me?”

“C’mon, lover boy. Finish off them dogs and I’ll buy ya an ice cream cone. And maybe one day we’ll throw in some scrambled eggs and a late night tea in the mix.”

“You okay, Betty? Your sounding a little funny.”

“Just daydreamin’, Mr. Danger. Summer in Central Park does that to a girl. Now, go on, tell me some more of the things we’d do if we was a couple, but ain’t.”