Ronnie glared menacingly at his cubicle mate Bob’s five-year old nephew Daniel who was busily examining the pigeons outside and pretending not to notice the stare of death.

Clenched in Ronnie’s hand was a hot dog – genuine Vienna beef to be precise. It was loaded with a variety of toppings and condiments. Grilled onions and peppers. Mustard. Just the slightest hint of celery salt. He had walked all the way down to 5th and Roosevelt to buy it. Through the flimsy paper wrapper he could feel the heat of the warmed bun. It was just as he liked it. Meticulously prepared. A veritable cornucopia of taste waiting to be enjoyed. It was, in summary, Ronnie’s favorite lunch.

At least until a few moments ago.

That’s when Ronnie returned from the Pepsi machine in the hallway to find that Daniel had improved his lunch with one further addition.

Who in their right mind would put globs of Elmer’s glue on a hot dog? Disgusted, Ronnie threw his lunch toward the trash.

Someone else could clean the onions off the wall.