The corner of Forbes and Bigelow has seemed empty since Scottie had his cart taken away last… The corner of Forbes and Bigelow has seemed empty since Scottie had his cart taken away last week. The Pitt News reported that Scottie had received many citations for failure to obtain proper health permits, and that the other vendors in Oakland complained to the police about him.Right before our very eyes, a drama full of revenge, jealousy and possible sexual innuendo has unfolded. The only way to pay tribute to this tale, large portions of which I am making up, is to turn it into a Shakespearean tragedy. So here, submitted for your approval, is a Shakespearean tragedy in five acts.

Characters: Scottie, Prince of Hotdogs; Geraldo, the fair town constable; Baltsaros and Chuck, two vendors; several hungry Oakland residents

Act 1: A sunny afternoon, near Scottie’s cart. Enter Scottie and Geraldo.

Scottie: Good morrow, Pops.

Geraldo: A fine day to you as well, fair prince. I wish all I had come here to ask of you was a slab of meat, but I bring ill news. I must once again ask you to submit to the health inspector.

Scottie: You must do what you must do, Pops – but my charge is to sell hot dogs. I shall be vassal to no king, buyer of no permits, as long as there is warmed flesh to sell.

Geraldo: So be it. Give me a hotdog and a bag of Fritos.

Act 2: The next day, in Geraldo’s office. Enter Baltsaros, Chuck and Geraldo.

Baltsaros: Greetings, fair constable. How fares the law?

Geraldo: It fares the same as ever. State your business or be gone, shifty one. I know you have come to denounce Scottie, but he is wise and honest.

Chuck: Patience, O constable. We do not come to bear the brunt of your angst, but to help guide you to just action.

Baltsaros: Yesterday, Scottie once again escaped your warning with nothing but a slap on the wrist. Force the law on him, if you are going to force it on us.

Geraldo: My sword is longer than yours and stands ever erect. I do not fear your flaccid armament.

Baltsaros: You had better act or I shall inform the chief of police about your inability to deal with that brigand.

Geraldo: You leave me no choice. Tomorrow, Scottie shall either relent or fall.

Act 3: Scottie’s cart, the following day. Enter Scottie and Geraldo.

Geraldo: I must give you one last chance to accept the rule of man, lest I arrest you and take your cart.

Scottie: I bite my thumb at you, sir. No man shall rule Scottie.

Geraldo: Sadly, you force my hand.

Act 4: Scene 1

2 days later, Baltsaros moved his truck to Scottie’s corner. Enter residents, Geraldo, Baltsaros.

Residents: We would like five hotdogs, five sodas and five apples, please.

Baltsaros: Suffer, lowly serfs. All I sell are gyros and goat’s milk! Hah.

Residents (to Geraldo): My Lord! Alas, we have naught but gyros to eat.

Geraldo (to self): What have I done? Indeed, the very order of the natural lunch hour is broken by my actions. Now residents must walk an extra 10 feet to the 7-Eleven to get a hot dog. I must rectify this.

Scene 2: Geraldo speaks to Scottie through a barred window on the 40th floor of the Cathedral. Chuck overhears.

Geraldo: Scottie! I fear that I have acted in haste. Tonight, I shall set you free. Disguise yourself and slay Baltsaros to re-establish the order of the Universe.

Scottie: Once a lover is scorned and twice a lover waylaid. I shall aid you.

Chuck (to self): Aha! I shall tell Baltsaros of this plan. When Scottie orders a gyro tomorrow, it shall be filled with poison!

Act 5: At Baltsaros’s gyro truck. Enter Scottie (disguised), Geraldo, Baltsaros, Chuck and Chorus.

Chuck (to Baltsaros): Ah, here he comes. Remember to fill his gyro with poison.

Scottie: Hey, Pops, I would like a gyro.

Baltsaros: Of course, dear friend. (gives poisonous gyro to Scottie, which Scottie eats).

Geraldo: Scottie! Be aware – Baltsaros has stuck poison in your gyro! You will be dead within 5 minutes’ time.

Scottie: Dark deeds must not go unpunished! (Draws sword, kills Baltsaros and Chuck, then slumps to the floor).

Scottie: Noble Geraldo! You must take control of my truck and sell hot dogs. Without my presence, this realm shall be overwhelmed by lesser lunch foods. I would advise thee to submit to the control of the health department. Indeed, pride is my tragic flaw. But your action shall represent a catharsis.

Chorus: All is well at last! Now will someone please give us a freakin’ hot dog?

Exeunt.

E-mail Sam Morey at [email protected].