To eat or not to eat

Character study

To Eat or Not To Eat:

Ron wondered what consequences would come from eating that hot dog. He often wondered about the small decisions in his life. Would it lead to a rise in his cholesterol? Would he gain weight? Would the hotdog lodge in his windpipe and choke him? The hot dog was more then just food to him, it was possible death. To him this little log of processed meat would lead to clogged arteries, liver cancer, and complete renal failure.

“Ron! You there man? You gonna get one or not.” Mike yelled out to Ron trying to get his attention.

Ron could tell that the hot dog vedor, who stood maybe waist high to him, was beginning to loose his patience. Yet he still couldn’t decide. To eat or not to eat, that was his question. The pressure was building around him. The growing frown on the vendors face, all the snickering, and deep sighs from the line forming behind him. Ron, the big lug that he was, was beginning to panic. His body felt warmer, his brow arched up forming little dark valleys for the beads of sweat to catch hold on. Ok, he thought to himself. It’s now or never. Do or die time. Let’s do this!

“You order now?” The little man with the mustard stains asked in his own charming hairy foreigner way, but without the smile Ron was hoping for.

“Ok. Let’s see…” He thought about what his purchase would be. There was a silence as he scanned the various condiments, toppings, and the hot dogs which floated like neatly formed turds in a horrid looking liquid.

“Jesus!” Someone cried out in the line behind him.

“Who the f**k said that?” Ron looked back, puffing out his barrel chest in a display that the proudest of birds would envy, and his size was enough to silence the angry business men waiting for their daily dose of hotdog water, and mushy rolls.

“Dude will you just order?” Mike tried to reason with him, but Ron just waved him off.

“Damn it.” Now he was flustered. How could he decide what he wanted to eat with his blood pressure so high? He closed his eyes and took a deep breath, and tried not to think about cows, factories, and dirty meat packing plants. “Alright. Let me get.” Suddenly his thought was interrupted by a bird which flew in and sat precariously on the side of the vendors hand truck, hovering with it’s head going back and forth over top the floating meat. The vendor shooed the bird away, and all Ron could imagine was bird fleas falling to their death into the soupy dog water below. He told himself that the little particles of dust he saw fly around were lice, scabbies, or just bird dandruff. He could hear the feet shuffling behind him as people shifted their weight to a different foot. He was hyper aware of everything, including the little particles of… Whatever, that had floated into the hot dog water.

“Hello?” The vendor asked.

He couldn’t take his eyes off the hot dogs. “You know what?” His mind was racing. Then he made up his mind, he would not be pressured. “F**k this. I’ll have a salad.”