Hot Dog in the City
/Original flash fiction writing for Round 1, Part 1 of NYC Midnight’s Flash Fiction 2021 competition.
Prompt: Genre - Crime Caper, Location - a hot dog cart, Object - allen wrench
“What makes you think you have what it takes to join this pack?”
Good question, Ducky thought disparagingly. He was a scrawny, leggy mutt who’d been called a runt his whole life.
“He’s fast,” interrupted Stella, a sandy-haired husky sauntering out of the shadows. “I’ve seen him run from the catchers. He’s faster than all of us.”
The pack leader appraised him. “You’ll have to prove yourself by completing a task that benefits the whole pack.”
Ducky licked his nose nervously. He needed to join a pack if he was going to make it as a stray.
“Before tomorrow at sundown, bring back enough hot dogs to feed the entire pack.”
A few members of the pack snorted at the impossibility of the assignment. As they dispersed, Stella sidled up to Ducky. “If you’re going to pull this off, you’re going to need a team.”
Ducky sighed. “It’s impossible. Who would be insane enough to help me?”
“I know someone.”
They walked to the park at the river’s edge. Stella whispered a couple low woofs. “Otto, Otto, I know you’re there.” A pair of furry ears rose from a hollow tree.
“This better be good, I was just… Stella! What brings you out tonight?” The raccoon climbed out and sat up with interest.
“We’ve got a job. It involves food.”
Otto raised his eyebrows.
“You’re the savviest thief I know. And, I think you’ll have what we need to pull this off.” She gestured over to a dark, canvas-covered hot dog stand.
Otto shook his head, “It’s empty at night. Trust me, I’ve tried.”
“We’re not breaking in at night.” Stella answered slyly.
Otto grinned and rubbed his paws together. “Well then, let’s start planning. By the way, who’s the runt?”
Ducky shrank. Stella scowled. “Ducky is new around here and he’s the fastest dog on these streets. This is his mission.”
•••
As dawn crept over the horizon, Otto gave Ducky a wink and slunk back into his tree. Stella and Ducky took to the alleyways, carefully out of sight.
“Do you think this is going to work?” Ducky asked.
“Only if you believe it will.”
Ducky stared at her, “Why are you helping me?”
Stella shrugged. “Not for a noble reason, if that’s what you’re thinking. Life on the streets isn’t exactly glamorous. Pulling off a heist? It’s more exciting than another day scrounging garbage and avoiding the catchers.”
They planned to nap in the daylight hours leading up to the job. Stella was accustomed to the city’s clatter and snoozed easily; Ducky still jumped at every sound.
His first few nights as a stray, he’d stumbled into unknown “turf” only to be chased off by rival packs. Stella had found him and vouched for him, though he wasn’t sure he deserved it. He laid unsettled and fretful until he heard the squeaky brakes of the afternoon mail truck. The first signal.
Stella and Ducky crept to the park, eyeing the hot dog vendor. They heard a clang from a nearby tree. Otto sat with a pouch slung across his chest and two small metal sticks in his paws. The second signal.
Ducky yawned widely, calming his nerves. Stella looked at him mischievously.
“You ready?”
Ducky set his sights.
“Let’s go.”
Stella yipped, Otto clanged his sticks together, and Ducky dashed to the cart.
The vendor blanched and began to shout, waving his arms wildly. Ducky dodged back and forth, jolting the vendor off balance. He spotted the bag of buns.
“Got ‘em!” Ducky snagged the sack, drawing the vendor into a chase. Stella and Otto approached.
Shouts from Ducky’s diversion echoed while Otto climbed to the top of the cart. Stella pawed the ground anxiously.
Otto swore. “The hull door, it’s stuck!”
Stella began to panic. “What do we do?”
“Let me think!” Otto could hear Ducky circling back around.
He jumped from the cart and dug into his pouch, producing a rope knotted to a carabiner. “Sorry for this,” he hissed as he tied one end of the rope in an X around Stella’s torso and clipped the carabiner to the cart’s hitch.
“Ducky, change of plans!”
He fished out a collection of small Allen wrenches, searching beneath the cart until he found the wheel brake. He thrust each one into the socket until one sunk perfectly. With all his strength, Otto wrenched it loose.
“Let’s go!” He hopped onto the cart as Ducky overtook them, the vendor in hot pursuit.
Ducky’s eyes widened as he saw Stella’s makeshift harness. Otto pointed ahead. “Clear the path and take us to the pack!”
His mouth still clamped on the bag and Stella hauling the cart close behind, Ducky dashed across the park and into the road, weaving in and out of the drivers now stopping haphazardly to take in the absurd scene.
They turned left, then right, then right again down a narrow alley. The vendor’s shouts faded out of earshot, drowned by the traffic scattered in their wake. The pack’s spot, an old junkyard, was just ahead.
Cars whizzed by as Ducky surveyed the crossing. “Get ready to run!”
Ducky waited for the final car to pass before darting into the road, the cart creaking as Stella picked up speed. He let out a loud bark as they clattered to a halt in the grass.
One by one, members of the pack crept from the bushes curiously, their noses catching a mouthwatering scent on the breeze. The pack leader stepped forward, appraising Ducky once more.
“Welcome to the pack, Duck.”
Ducky spun enthusiastically on the spot, prompting a few snorts from the elder pack members.
“Don’t get your hopes up just yet.” The pack leader looked up suspiciously at the raccoon, who spoke from atop the cart. He’d heaved the hull door open and was shaking his head in disbelief.
“I hope you dogs know how to share.”
Otto reached down and pulled out a single, soggy hot dog, their only trophy from the epic heist.
