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“Look at this group,” Grandma said. “They’ve got one of them drums for cookin’ a pig.”
I couldn’t see the drum. The drum was lost behind my hot dog skin. I turned to look and bumped into a kid.
“The hot dog stepped on me,” the kid said.
“Sorry,” I said. “Excuse me.” I stepped to the side and knocked a woman over.
Connie picked the woman up. “It’s her first time as a hot dog,” Connie told the woman. “Cut her some slack.”
Lula had me by my bun, steering me forward. “Watch out for the hot dog,” she was telling people. “Make way for the hot dog.”
“I think I’m getting the hang of this,” I said to Lula. “I’m okay as long as I only go forward.”
Lula’s grip tightened on my arm. “It’s him.”
“Who?”
“The Chipotle killer. Marco the Maniac.”
“Where?”
“Up there in front of us. The guy who’s all dressed up in a cheap suit.”
I squinted through the hot dog skin. I couldn’t see a guy in a suit. “Does he have a cleaver?”
“No. He’s got an ice-cream cone.”
Lula hauled her gun out of her purse. “Hey! Marco the Maniac!” she yelled at him. “Hold it right there. I’m making a citizen’s arrest.”
Marco looked around, spotted Lula, and froze.
“Guess it’s not so funny when he don’t have his cleaver,” Lula said.
A family walked between us and Marco, and Marco threw his ice-cream cone down and took off.
“He’s running away,” Lula said. “After him!”
After him? Was she kidding?
Lula had one side of my costume, Connie had the other, and I could feel Grandma pushing from behind.
“Wait,” I said. “I can’t run. I can’t . . .” CRASH. I knocked over a prep table. “Sorry!”
Lula kept dragging me. “He’s going for the parking lot,” Lula said.
“I see him,” Connie said. “He’s getting into that silver BMW. Who’s got a car here?”
“What about your car?” Grandma asked.
“It’s way on the other side of the lot.”
I wriggled my arm out of the armhole and pulled the keys to the cab out of my pants pocket. “I’ve got the keys to the cab.”
Connie got behind the wheel, Lula sat next to her, and Grandma got into the backseat. I tried to sit next to Grandma, but I couldn’t get all of me in. Everyone jumped out and ran around to my side and pushed and shoved.
“She’s too fat,” Grandma said. “She don’t fit in the door.”
“Bend the bun,” Connie said. “There’s too muc
