When you accidentally squeeze your hot dog out of its bun, there's no going back from that. Sure you can try to apply the two second rule, but good luck with those sticky condiments, there's bound to be hair and all sorts of undesirables once you get to the thing. Best to just walk away, dig grudgingly into your pockets and buy another.
Simon wasn't a hot dog, neither was his house a bun, and there wasn't a ready replacement if you chose to give up on him and find another. There was only one Simon and right now he was flying like a rocket across the night sky.
Brandon had been walking two a breast with his blind date, Melanie. With their considerable dimensions they obtruded all on coming foot traffic, who were forced to drop on the road to get around. This made Brandon smile, tonight he wasn't moving for anyone, or so he thought until what looked like a shooting star came hurtling towards them. Melanie was left with her leg trapped in a public garbage bin and screaming about the worst date she'd ever been on. Brandon had always had a certain way with women, tonight he though things would be different. Who was that flying man with the rocket up his rectum? Brandon had to know.