Who could’ve known that the corn dog had become quietly rancid? It was, truth be told, resting atop one of the many overflowing garbage pots that littered the Tri City Fairgrounds that afternoon. And it was, to continue in this truth business, a particularly sweltering day. But the corn dog looked fine. After all, it had already been nibbled: someone, at sometime, had found this delectable fair fare palatable.
And who could’ve known that not one, but five individuals would separately happen upon that corn dog perched on its rubbish pile? What special, intangible qualities must this little breaded weiner have possessed to catch the eye of these passers-by?
And what were the odds that this little dog would not only call the eye of each of these gentlemen, but that its charms would rival that of the Sirens, tempting each to sample its forbidden delights?
When the stars are aligned, who can resist their pull? And when 5 men in adjoining rooms of the Tri City Hospital are having the contents of their stomachs pumped from their respective gullets, who can deny fate?
The rest, as has been said, is fine.
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