“they don’t have corndogs,” he said.
“a lot of people are upset,” leah, our waitress said.
“what else do you want?” sister #2 asked.
“nothing,” he said.
“nothing?” she asked.
“all i ever wanted was a corndog!” he wailed.
eventually he caved in and went with the grilled cheese. but he wasn’t about to let the corndog issue drop.
“why did they get rid of the corndog?” max asked.
“it was probably some stupid guy in marketing’s idea,” stink, max’s dad, said.
[edited out: the ensuing discussion between stink and sister #2 about stink assuming it was a man in marketing who made the decision and not a woman]
“i know!” max said. “i will start a petition, they will have to bring back the corndog.”
“that’s an excellent idea,” sister #2.
“do you have a piece of paper?” he asked.
“no, but aunt jodi does,” she said.
“how do you know?” he asked.
“she always does.”
so i ripped out two pieces of paper from the notebook i carry in my bag. while jaycie set to work drawing a unicorn and a rainbow, max began scribbling furiously with the red crayon.
“what are you making there boo?” i asked.
“it’s bloodshot eyes,” sister #2 said.
“oh,” i said.
“should i draw fangs and devil horns?” max asked.
“probably,” i said.
“i know and i’ll have steam coming out of the ears!”
he went back to drawing.
“why’d you put a smile on him?” sister #2 asked.
“oh rats,” he said.
“that’s ok,” i said. “just have him stick his tongue out.”
“good idea aunt jodi.” he drew a tongue. “does he look angry?”
“yes, he does.” i said.
then he flipped over the paper, and as i spelled each word he wrote:
then he made everyone at the table sign it.
“i’m not signing it.” jaycie slid the paper back towards him and folded her arms across her chest. “i don’t care about corndogs.”
“MOOOOOOMmmMMM,” he said. “jaycie doesn’t care about corndogs! now they’ll never bring them back.”
“don’t worry max,” i said. “i’ll tell everyone on the internet and they’ll support your corndog petition.”
“good,” max said. “people should care about corndogs.”