A Hot-dog called Hope

(PHOTO CREDIT: Jean L. Hays)

The Red Mtn Market & Deli, was cluttered, crowded and cramped. A smudged, smeared and smelly poster tacked onto the wall abutting the main entrance proudly promised – in faded letters – everything from hot dogs to hope. While Venky religiously avoided hotdogs, even a sudden interest in religion would not suffice to hope.

His decision to enter the building was, if not whimsical, unplanned. Unable to quieten down an annoyingly restless mind, he sought solace in distraction.

“How much for a pound of hope?” he asked the old saleswoman.

“No price is steep enough Sir” came the response.

(Word Count: 99)

This story was written as part of the FRIDAY FICTIONEERS challenge, more about which may be found HERE

 For the complete list of entries, please click HERE

18 thoughts on “A Hot-dog called Hope

  1. How much did Venky end up paying? He could have had several hot dogs instead. With blood sugar rising, hope would have automatically risen. I love hot dogs by the way. Nice.


  2. I wonder what Venky did next. Can you really purchase hope? Did he leave, still feeling hopeless? Or did he understand what the woman was telling him—hope comes at a price sometimes.


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