Page 53 of Hot Doggin'
“Nah,” Mac laughs, “a real one this time. I’ll let you know how it goes.”
“I won’t hold my breath,” Rhett laughs.
“Are we stopping here cause you need to grab something on the way to our date?”
Mac pulls the truck into a parking spot in front of the big box building supply store.
His huge grin shows off white teeth against an orange beard. “No, thisisour date.”
“Seriously?” I couldn’t be more surprised if a purple gorilla tapped on my window.
“Yeah, why? Is this not romantic enough? Cause if you wanted something fancy…”
“No!” I'm quick to reassure him. “This is perfect. Nothing says romance like ropes and chains.” I hop out of the truck and meet him at the tailgate. “You’re speaking my love language.”
“Right?! Who wants to get dressed up in clothes that make you sweat and choke you to eat at some fancy restaurant? The Tavern sells the best burger in town.”
I bump his fist with mine. “One hundred percent.”
“And look,” he points to the front of the store, “they’ve got a hotdog cart. Dinner with no dress code.”
Laughing, I add, “They used to have a churro vendor that would drive by. Too bad he’s not here or we could have dessert too.”
We approach the hotdog cart and Mac orders a dog with the works, while I take mine with chili and onions. But then, I hesitate before taking a bite. This is a date. Is he going to kiss me with chili onion breath? I pat my pockets and frown. No gum.
Fuck it, I’m hungry. He’ll just have to wait until we get home to kiss me.
Mac takes his first bite. “It’d be better if it were boiled instead of grilled, but it’s not bad.”
I will never understand his obsession with boiled hotdogs. Why would you want to soak all the taste out of the meat?
Just another phenomenon on a long list that makes him an oddball. I guess we're the odd couple.
We carry the hotdogs inside and I grab a shopping cart. You never know what you might find or what you might need until you see it.
“While we’re here, we should grab some gift certificates to donate to Nash’s Helping Homeowners initiative for Christmas.”
Mac’s face lights up. “That’s a great idea! Very humanitarian.”
“I think the word is philanthropic.”
He looks confused. “Nah, pretty sure its humanitarian.”
Whatever. “Let's head down the hardware aisle. I want to check out the door knobs. We can replace the broken one on the hall closet.”
“Perfect. It’s only been broken for a year,” he laughs.
As we make our way through the aisles, we take turns throwing things in the cart—Plumbers putty, a multi-tool with a camouflage handle, synthetic rope, a new funnel to change the oil in our bikes and trucks, and a box of garbage bags.
“I'm telling you,” Mac insists, “this is the best date I’ve ever been on. The last real date I went on was with Gina, that girl I dated last year. We went to some fancy Italian place in Asheville.”
“I love some pasta. Italian sounds good.”
“They didn’t have pasta. They had micro food. It didn’t even fill the plate. I left hungry and drove through a burger place. It really pissed her off. What about you? What’s the last date you went on?”
I try to think back through the last few months. This is the kind of shit that’s hard for me to remember. Minute details that don’t matter in the grand scheme of life. “I think it was with the chick who gave me fleas. We went to see a movie before we hooked up for the first time.”
“I like movies. Although I’d rather watch them at home in my underwear.”
