Hold the Pickles (2 page)

I could still see enough, though, to realize there were other mascots at the fair. In the crowd I spotted a drumstick, a sushi roll, a cupcake and at least three burgers. They were all hollering slogans and doing silly waves to attract customers. It was a relief to find out I wasn't the only person willing to make a fool of myself for a few bucks.

There was also plenty of real food. I remembered Hammy saying I could eat as many samples as I wanted. Suddenly the afternoon didn't seem that bad. I squinted out Frank's mouth to see what my choices were. The Codfather Fish 'n Chips looked good. I was dragging myself over to get in line when I had a terrible thought. How was I going to eat anything? The hotdog's mouth was a canoe-shaped grin covered in black mesh. There was nowhere to put the food.

I tried to slump in disappointment, but my wiener prison wouldn't even allow me to do that. I was trapped. My only option was to start handing out samples.

I didn't think I'd have many takers. All the other mascots had food that people would actually want to eat. My healthy hotties weren't hot anymore, and they sure didn't look too healthy. I didn't know if the added fiber turned them gray or if
all
wieners would look that sick without artificial color. I did know one thing though. There was no way I'd eat any—even if I had a mouth to do it with.

I stood on the sidelines, holding my tray out and occasionally muttering “Free samples.” Everyone ignored me. I couldn't bring myself to do Hammy's whole dorky sales pitch. I did have
some
pride—although you'd never know it to look at me.

I was almost ready to give up when this kid stopped right in front of me. He looked at my samples and said, “Ooh. Nice.” I was hopeful for a second. Then he said, “Where'd you get those—the morgue?”

That was it. Something snapped inside me. I mean, these were
Hogg's
Doggs! No one could talk about my uncle's food like that! (Other than me, of course.)

I lowered my voice to make it as manly as I could. I sounded just like my Aunt Maxie. Then I hollered right in his ear, “I'll have you know you're talking to Frank Lee Better!”

I curled up one arm and pumped my tennis-ball bicep. “I'm all natural! High fiber! Low fat! I'm the best wiener on the market!”

The kid snorted, “Yeah, I bet you are,” and left.

My rant hadn't worked as well as I'd wanted. It hadn't convinced the kid and had only managed to lure over one other customer, a little old lady. She held her purse with one hand and fingered the samples with the other.

“I'm just trying to find a nice warm one,” she said in her sweet-little-old-lady voice. (As if that made her germs less deadly than the rest of ours.) She finally settled on an end piece with extra mustard.

She was sliding her glasses down to inspect it when I heard a girl's voice say, “These are all natural? Really? They look delicious!”

I waited for the punch line. My guess was that the other kid had sent someone over to torment me. I tipped my head back to get a better look and immediately realized I'd make a mistake. I had a lot more forehead than I usually did. The movement threw my balance off. I toppled over backward.

My pickled feet flew up in the air. My samples scattered. I landed hard on my sesame-seed bun. I worried for a second that everyone had seen my tighty-whities, and that's the last thing I remember.

Chapter Four

“Frank…? Frank?”

I blinked a few times, and this beautiful teenage girl appeared through the black screen of my goofy grin. She was leaning over me, looking into my eyes—or what she no doubt
thought
were my eyes. Her long brown hair swept across Frank's face. She was wearing pink lip gloss. She smelled like roses. It was almost too good to be true.

“Are you all right? Frank?”

She probably thought I was unconscious, but that wasn't the reason I didn't answer. The truth was, I was in shock. No one that good-looking had ever spoken to me in my entire life.

The old lady said, “Maybe we should call nine-one-one…”

My heart started pounding. I pictured paramedics pulling me out of the hotdog by my feet—and the beautiful girl realizing with horror that Frank Lee Better was actually Puny Little Me.

I couldn't let that happen.

“Ah…” I said.

“He's trying to talk!” She leaned in closer. I smelled her rose perfume again. That's when I remembered something really important.

I'm allergic to roses.

“Ah…” I went.

“Yes?” she said.

“Choo!” I let out a giant sneeze.

The blowback was so strong that my head bounced off the floor. Snot hit the inside of the hotdog and splattered back over my face and glasses.

The old lady scrunched up her lips and said, “Ooh. Must be awful messy in there.”

The beautiful girl didn't shudder or move away from me in disgust. She just said, “Here. Let me help you.” She took my Mickey Mouse hand and pulled me to my feet.

Beautiful, kind and really strong too. For a second there, I wondered who
her
personal trainer was. Maybe I should give him a call.

“You're very light for someone so tall,” she said. I assumed she was joking, but then she handed me back my tray and added, “Must be all the healthy food you eat.”

Was she for real? How hard had I hit my head? If I didn't have mucus dripping down my face, I would have thought I was dreaming.

“What a sin you lost all your samples.” She shook her head. Her hair bounced around like it was starring in a shampoo commercial. “They look super yummy.”

The old lady said, “Oh, yes! They certainly do,” and took a bite of her sample. That took the smile off her face pretty fast. She made a
kekking
sound and put the rest of the hotdog back on the tray. Either the beautiful girl didn't notice, or she was too polite to mention it. The old lady held a hankie up to her mouth and toddled off fast.

I didn't know if I was thrilled to be alone with the beautiful girl or terrified. Probably a bit of both.

“So,” she said, “do you make the hotdogs yourself? Is this your own company?”

I was about to say, “No, I'm only helping my uncle out,” but then I thought, why would I say that? Why blow it? She thinks I'm tall, a business owner and obviously a lot older than I am. Who needed a personal trainer? I was starting to think dressing up as a hotdog was a much better way to get girls.

I said, “It's a family company,” which was sort of the truth. An uncle is family.

“Really?” I could tell that impressed her. “It's so wonderful to see a company that truly cares about our health.”

I was suddenly feeling way more confident. It was as if I'd actually become the person she thought I was.

“All these compliments are making me blush,” I said in my Jolly Green Giant voice.

“You're kidding,” she said and waved her hand at me.

“No, I'm not,” I said. “See how I've gone all pink?” I pointed at my foam body.

She laughed like I'd just cracked the world's funniest joke. Then I really did blush.

My knees started to knock together. I went from sweating buckets to sweating rivers. I felt like I might faint. I was in love.

I was just thinking that this had to be the happiest day of my life when I heard a terrible sound. It was Shane Coolen screaming for a hotdog.

My love was doomed.

Chapter Five

That's not quite fair. I shouldn't say Shane Coolen is terrible. Not anymore at least. For years, he called me Pigboy and tortured me about my glasses and my teeth and stuff like that, but he's gotten nicer. We even kind of get along now.

That still didn't mean I was happy to hear his voice. I knew if he found out I was Frank Lee Better, he'd never be able to control himself. He's only human. He'd
have
to make fun of me. And that would be the end of my chances with the beautiful girl.

I told myself to calm down. How would Shane know it was me? The costume covered me right to my shins, and I hadn't used my real voice. As long as he didn't recognize the smell of my sweat, I figured I was okay.

“Don't move, Wienerboy! I mean it!” He came charging over with his big hand stretched out for the last sample. He didn't seem to notice there was a bite out of it. “Yes! I got it. I wanted a hotdog so bad, you wouldn't believe it.”

He was about to put the sample in his mouth when he saw the girl. His hand stopped in midair.

“Well, hello there.” He didn't even have to put on a Jolly Green Giant voice. It came natural to him.

I couldn't see the girl's face very well, but I could tell by the way she said hi that she was smiling.

I felt sick. She'd already made it clear that she liked tall, healthy guys, and Shane sure was tall and healthy. The kid had single-handedly lifted Mr. Benvie's
SUV
out of the snowbank last year. I assumed that was the only way he'd managed to pass geography. Shane didn't need to hide inside a foam hotdog to impress a girl.

“So, ah, what's your name?” He might have been tall and healthy, but Shane wasn't all that clever with the pickup lines.

“Brooke.”

“You mean, like water?” He gave this lover-boy chuckle and winked at her. “I like water.” I would have thrown up, but it was already gross enough inside the hotdog.

The worst thing was that the beautiful girl laughed at his joke just as hard as she'd laughed at mine. I told myself she was only being polite, but I didn't really believe it. Girls always laughed at Shane's jokes. There was just something about him they found cute. Frankly, I didn't understand the attraction, but that was probably fine with Shane.

He started talking as if I wasn't there. He asked Brooke if she'd like to get a bite to eat. He made it sound as if he was going to take her to some fancy restaurant instead of just walking over to a mascot with a trayful of free food.

She laughed again and said, “I don't know you very well.” I got the impression that she'd like to change that. She reached out and touched his arm.

What was I thinking? Why would Brooke ever fall for six feet of foam when she could have a real man—or at least Shane?

He talked her into heading over to check out what the dancing meatball was offering. He still had my sample in his hand.

“Let me finish this and…” He popped it in his mouth, then made a sound like a dog that had suddenly reached the end of its leash. He started spitting and sputtering and scraping at his tongue with his fingernails.

“Ooh. Ugh. Gag. What
is
this?” He looked at me as if I'd tried to poison him. “It's disgusting!”

I didn't have a chance to reply. Shane heaved and ran off with his hand over his mouth.

“Oh, dear. Poor guy.” Brooke watched him disappear through the crowd. Her big brown eyes looked sad. “He must have gotten a bad one.”

She was sympathetic, but she didn't run after him. I was amazed. Did she really prefer to stay with me? Even more amazing, I noticed that a second beautiful girl was there now too, standing beside Brooke. They could have been identical twins, except that this one had blond hair.

“Oh, Kelsey! I wondered where you were!” Brooke said. “You've got to meet Frank. He's so funny! You'll absolutely love him.”

They both turned and smiled at me. I was making ten bucks an hour to talk to two beautiful girls who thought I was funny. I could barely breathe, I was so happy. It was as if, suddenly, everything in my life was going right. I didn't even feel like sneezing anymore.

But the good times didn't last very long.

I was just about to charm the girls with a few more of my witty remarks when I heard something even worse than Shane's voice.

Uncle Hammy's.

Chapter Six

“Hey, look, everybody! Isn't that Frank Lee Better?”

What was Uncle Hammy doing here? Why wasn't he manning his booth? I didn't want to turn around and find out.

“It is! It's the Healthy Hottie!” He was hollering like he'd just spotted Justin Bieber. People craned their necks to see. I can imagine how disappointed they were when they realized he was talking about a hotdog.

I had to stop Hammy before he said anything more. He was bound to humiliate me in front of Brooke—even if it was only by mentioning that he was my uncle.

I could hear him pound across the floor behind me. There was no time to waste.

“Excuse me,” I said to the girls. “I've got to…”

“Oh, sorry,” Brooke said, looking at Hammy. She had this perfect singsong voice. “Don't let us keep you from your fans!”

Kelsey swung her big red purse up onto her shoulder. “No. We wouldn't want to do that. That man looks like he's really excited to see you. You must be quite a celebrity!”

I couldn't tell if she was being sarcastic or not. I got the feeling she wasn't as nice as Brooke, but I didn't know why I thought that. It was something about her voice. It had an edge to it.

Hammy was hollering about my powerful biceps now and gaining on me. The girls' smiles had frozen on their faces. Their eyes shifted back and forth between me and Hammy. This was turning into one of those classic awkward moments that usually come right before the deeply embarrassing ones.

“I'll be right back,” I said, then turned to cut Hammy off at the pass.

My cape swung up in the air just like a real superhero's would. I wondered if the girls thought it looked cool.

Or dorky?

Chapter Seven

First, the good news.

With so many people tromping through the hall, Hammy didn't notice his samples scattered all over the floor. He just saw my empty tray and must have thought they'd all been gobbled up by happy customers. He was thrilled.

“You're doing a great job, Frank! Or, should I say,
Dan
.” He whispered as if my true identity was our little secret. “Boy. I'd better hurry back to my stall. Thanks to your stellar sales job, I bet there's a lineup by now!”