3 things to inspire 1 story written in 20 minutes. #story320
words/phrase provided by @salgadoarnie
“What did you just say to me?”
I was staring at a guy who was supposedly selling me a hotdog from a cart on the street. When he pulled open the cooler to pull out a dog, I nearly vomited. The smell was horrific. There was no possible way something edible resided in that cooler.
So I asked him where he got his hot dogs and all he said was — “Skroatch Choodybeak.”
“What did you just say to me?” I started walking away and about ten yards off I looked back and heard the vendor speak in his original voice. A voice that sounded different from the one he’d used to say those strange words.
He said, “Hi sir, hotdogs very nice, special for you. Com chomp! Nice price.”
Exactly the same as what had caught my attention but without the gurgles, grumbles and snorts of the “Skroatch Choodybeak.”
I sat and stared a little longer. I noticed the vendor sat on a little stool that seemed wobbly, the legs were not straight and somehow curved out from the bottom of the cart. It must have been a way of storing the stool at the end of the day.
No one else had ventured to buy a hotdog, which didn’t surprise me because it was 7:30 AM. Though that never stops me.
I went back to the cart and this time used his words in the form of a question. The vendors eyes widened and he smiled warmly, probably because no one wanted to buy a hot dog from his stench locker.
“Skroatch Choodybeak?” I said.
He nodded eagerly and added, “Choodybeak, toot.”
“Toot,” he said again. Then he farted. I guess to emphasize the toot. Then he reiterated, “Skroatch Choodybeak, toot,” and farted again.
So I nodded and smiled. His meat was maybe rotten but I didn’t have to be rude to a guy selling hotdogs on the corner.
He beckoned me closer to the opening of the cooler, the stench seemed to take on a shape. A beak opened from inside and pulled me in by the head.
A mother and son walked by a hotdog vendor at 7:45 AM.
“Mom can I have a hotdog?”
“You already ate breakfast.”
“What about for lunch?”
“Shit, I forgot your lunch, okay.”
They walk up to a hotdog cart. The vendors eyes are shut and his mouth chews.
“Excuse me sir, I’d like a hotdog with nothing on it, just bun and dog please. My son is a picky eater.”
The vendor opened his eyes, shaking his head no. He slid under the cart and the umbrella came down all on its own. A tentacle slithered into the cart and as it rolled away it made a fart noise.
The boy laughed and said, “That hotdog man tooted.”