If you find yourself thinking this thought: "I don't like hotdogs. I don't like sausages. But hey, I'm in England so I might as well try the local street cuisine."
RUN.
FLY AWAY.
SEW YOUR MOUTH SHUT.
EAT ANYTHING ELSE BUT THAT.
Because the Street Sausage wins every time.
So I am sitting here, well laying actually in my bed. It's 5:30 in the evening. I am ill. I've been here all day. Why? Well you could have guessed that one already, because of tasting a sample of a street sausage hotdog Saturday in Weymouth. The battle went on until 4 a.m. this morning. Not even water could tame this beast. I haven't been this sick since 2002 when I ate at Carl's Jr right before closing time (that has been sworn off as well as Beto's for the same obvious reason). I think this is what happened to George Orwell right before he wrote War of the Worlds. It is just bizarre science fiction to think that a tiny microscopic bacteria could cause such destruction, so naturally it would be an excellent killing agent for wacko aliens. If only there was some way to design these bacteria to only recognize wacko aliens and then just attack them. I am not an alien, why didn't the little coccii understand that? Perhaps it is some plot by the British to wipe out Americans. This theory would work except that my friend got sick too, and he's a Brit. Perhaps it recognizes Americans and then their friends so as to cut off their social support structure whilst in the country.
Thank heavens I caught on to this sinister plan. I will now swear off a food I don't enjoy anyway (which could include a lot of British foods). I'm putting it on the "British Plot Against Americans" list and I will never ever, no matter how hungry I get try a street sausage hotdog again.
