Hitched.

Most people don't have trouble deciding what type of condiments to slather on their hot dog. Either you go for spicy mustard sprinkled with chunks of onion, or you don't. You're a mustard and ketchup fan, or you favor nothing less than the works. Or, maybe you're a no-frills, hot-dog purist--no condiments, just dog and bun.

Not Frank Furter.

Of course, Frank Furter is not your average human.

First off, he's a hot dog. And he's got his own band, Frank Furter and the Hot Dogs. A relentless entertainer, Furter's performed before the lunchtime crowd at Northeast hot-dog mecca, The Dog House, as well as thousands of lunatic hockey fans at Portland's Winter Hawk games. Once he even played outside a local radio station until studio bosses ushered him inside for an on-air set.

But underneath that tattered sausage casing lies a vulnerable young pup.

Despite his accomplishments, Furter's always felt somewhat vulnerable. Though he's searched endlessly, he's never found the right protective shell. He's literally a dog without a bun. "I don't own my own bun yet," says Furter. A self-described underdog, he says his life's purpose is to one day become Top Dog.

By the end of this week, Furter may well get his chance.

Last week, Furter fell in love--twice. First, he met Miss Ketchup at a food cart. Ketchup's smooth demeanor and distinct tomato-based flavor hinted at a wild side. The two flirted while waiting for their lunchtime orders. Here's a sexy condiment, he thought. Furter admits Ketchup has helped with his self-esteem issues. "When I feel like a cocktail wiener," he says, "she makes me feel like a foot-long dog."

Then Furter met Sweet Relish. Clearly a more demure, chunky type of condiment, Relish seemed preserved but not processed--a girl-next-door kind of topping. Furter was immediately smitten. "We met at a barbecue," he says. "It was love at first sight. Pure, sweet relish."

Torn between two loves but eager to walk down the aisle, Furter was faced with a decision: Go with passion and desire (Miss Ketchup), and risk burnout? Or with innocence incarnate (Sweet Relish)? Unable to come to a single, monogamous decision, Furter popped the question--to both condiments.

Didn't Furter worry that, once married, the Relish and Ketchup would forever fight for his attention? Not for a second. Furter's determined to give each of his condiments the same amount of attention. "I like equal portions of ketchup and relish on my hot dog," he says. "Actually, the three of us go quite well together. When this threesome is together, it's a mouthful."

Ketchup and Relish said yes to the proposal, and plans for a shotgun wedding were hatched. The trio eschewed a Las Vegas proceeding and instead decided on a Thursday-morning ceremony at downtown Portland's newly minted all-night donut palace-cum-wedding chapel, Voodoo Donut.

With all the major junk-food groups accounted for, this wiener'll finally have the right to claim he's Top Dog this Thursday.

WWeek 2015