Dogged
Legacy Name: Dogged

They said my idea was crazy. They said I could never make it happen. But I wouldn’t listen to such nonbelievers. I couldn’t. It’s in my very name. Dogged. Determined. To give up on my dream would be to go against my very nature. While my friends scoffed and waved my proposal aside, I set about designing a blueprint for my hot dog cart for the stars.

That doesn’t sound so unreasonable, you say. But I’m not talking about a cart for celebrities who are more likely to go for the salad bar anyways. I mean the constellations. There they stand, night after night, shining for the entire world to see. And what have they to eat on their endless patrol of the sky? Cosmic dust and the occasional lump of rubble, that’s what. How would you like to eat the same two foods at every meal for the next ten thousand years? I didn’t think so.

Building in space is no simple matter. You can’t just nail together a few boards, slap a hand-painted sign on the front and call it a day. Dark matter particles have proven to be the best material to hold up to the conditions of space, but as their name suggests, they’re highly unstable. Those pesky particles are like a swarm of hornets raised in a clown camp. They’re volatile and mischievous, each with a mind of their own and a terrible temper. They may only choose to scatter to the far reaches of the galaxy or they may use their power to create a black hole large enough to swallow a planet. That’s where cosmic dust comes in.

Cosmic dust is a most incredible powder, a mixture of starfire, crushed black diamonds, and just a drop of light from the sun’s core. The instant a dark matter particle comes into contact with this marvelous dust it is frozen in time and can be safely bonded to other particles to form a space structure. Unfortunately, the formula for the powder is owned by the greedy old space traveler who discovered it, and he charges a hefty price per pound.

Fortunately, I know his greatest weakness. When he was in his early years of roaming the universe he once made the mistake of buying replacement parts for his ship from a junkyard on Orion VII. The folks on O7 can sing like songbirds and bake a mean Xulonberry Quiche, but mechanics they are not. Our intrepid space explorer spent two years among them, learning to hunt the furry blue ostriches that are their main food source. They may look like birds, but by his account they taste just like ham. All that blue ham gave him a powerful craving for cheese to pair with it, but while the brown lizards tasted something like beef, they certainly didn’t provide milk fit to drink. Let a craving grow too strong and it becomes nearly impossible to shake, no matter how you try to satisfy it.

I gathered together cheeses from every known land. Cheddar, Swiss, and Edam all went through my grater. I even added a pinch of moldy cheese, but just a pinch. A true chef knows how to proportion. There was only a hint of hot dog flavor under that mound, but after one bite I knew I had him. I condemned three cheese graters to the appliance graveyard, but I also acquired my dust.

Next came securing a location. I had to be near enough to the constellations to secure their business, but not so close that I threatened their little patches of sky. Constellations can be very territorial. I was in luck. Just days after I started my search one ancient star resigned itself to ruthless time and fell from its place. I moved in that same day.

Business is booming with no signs of slowing down. Anyu and Archan stop by almost every night, and when they leave to visit their summer homes I know I can rely on Serpenth, Rreign, and Irion to make their appearance. I’m thinking of expanding my line, perhaps a few breakfast options or some fruit dogs. Next time I pass over Centropolis I simply must spend some time hovering over the towers there. They are always a fashionable lot, and if there’s one thing my customers love, it’s a change of routine.

Story by Pureflower
Layout by Fiore
Coding by User not found: serene