Scattered around were beach umbrellas with tables and chairs beneath them, most of which were occupied already. A few people hung around the ordering windows, talking to the workers.

The menu listed other things than hot dogs — onion rings, french fries, and drinks, but nothing else in the meat department. I ordered two plain hot dogs and a small Coke.

Kirandra noticed. “The condiments haven’t hurt anyone lately,” she said with a grin.

“No fries, either?” asked Becky, sticking her head in. “Are you part alien fungus?”

“Monkey Queens must be silent! Onion rings are the ambrosia of the fast food world! They are round and oniony and therefore, superior,” said J, twirling onion rings on his index fingers.

Becky held her nose. “They also give you death breath, doofus.”

Kirandra agreed, wincing.

J laughed and breathed towards Becky. “Saving throw vs. onion rings: failed!”