The Flying Hot-Dog

Yesterday I was walking to work, heading toward the subway when I suddenly heard someone sneeze very forcefully and loudly. I looked forward and to my right towards the hot-dog stand on the corner, and I saw this guy violently sneezing and convulsing enough to send the hot-dog in his hand flying out of the bun and through the air until it smacked hard into my chest, leaving a nice greasy mark right in the center of my shirt where the hot-dog hit. I was attacked by a flying hot-dog. Luckily the guy didn't want any condiments on his frank or else it could have been worse. Of course, I had to work all day with a nice grease stain on my shirt.