Utterly famished, I went straight to the kitchen swearing that I would gorge on the first food that I would see. I rummaged through the refrigerator and found a pack of jumbo Tender Juicy hotdogs. I grabbed a pan, greased it, and cooked the lovely hotdogs sending a greatly delightful smell up to my room where my 3-year old nephew was staying. Soon after, I heard my nephew’s footsteps as he ran down the stairs. “Tito, are those my hotdogs?” He asked. “Yes.” “You’re bad. You didn’t tell me you would cook my hotdogs. Those are mine. I hate you.…