It is unlikely that anyone would witness the enthusiasm the usually reticent bishop displayed as he loudly relished the hot dog. His presence was obscured by the “Get Your Dogs Here” sign. Mustard and relish, ketchup, and even onion bits trickled down his chin and onto the archaic somber costume bearing his profession. Hardly anyone could blame him because his usual holiday fare was thin beet soup provided by the dour mistress of the convent. It was rumored a myth of fiction but in actuality it was an almost daily occurrence. The stringent menu the mistress supplied was on a budget scale that kept the funds for the convent well in line. It was times like today when the bishop was free to enjoy the “sins of the indulgent”, that helped him cope the rest of the year.