Chapter Four: How to Build a Hot Dog Cannon
“You look great, Tillie, but we’re headed to the wilds of the storage room. God knows what’s down there! Didn’t I say you should dress for some dirty work?” Maddie waved a hand in the general direction of Tillie’s outfit.
“I did!” Tillie looked down at her tailored khaki shorts and bandeau neckline striped shirt. “This is casual.”
“According to Ralph Lauren? The Ann Taylor Loft?”
“Not all of us have an endless supply of cut-offs and T-shirts from the Podunk Possums.”
“Oh I wish there was a Podunk Possums T-shirt! I would totally wear that.” Maddie brushed imaginary dirt off her Sugar Land Space Cowboys T-shirt. “Not everybody is as lucky as I am to have such an extensive minor league T-shirt collection.”
“So lucky,” drawled Tillie sarcastically. “Why are we bothering with the storage room? I’m sure there’s nothing in there but dead animals and spider webs.”
“Well, it’s not pretty, but there are a million boxes in there. I want to go through them and see if there’s anything we can use for some quick and easy events.”
“Like what? Dead Mouse Day?”
“Come on, it won’t be that bad!” Maddie put on rubber gloves and a dust mask, handed some to Tillie, and led the way out of her dank office and into the danker storage room. It was in the basement, down a flight of moldy stairs. Tillie followed slowly with a distinct lack of enthusiasm.
As they entered the room, Tillie gingerly donned the mask and gloves. Maddie turned on the overhead light. The room was a disaster, and it did smell uninviting. But there might be hidden treasures.
“I was hoping we’d run into Rory this morning. I wanted to ask—”
“Rory couldn’t make it in today.” Tillie moved her face mask up to cover her nose. “He’s paralyzed with indecision over whether or not to wear socks with his Bass Weejuns.”
“I shouldn’t laugh at that!” Maddie’s attempt to suppress her laughter turned into a choke as she pulled down the first box and a cloud of dust filled the room.
“I suggest looking for some explosives. It would be better for everyone if we just blew this place up.” Tillie coughed into her elbow loudly a few times.
“Good Lord!” Maddie said when she opened the box. “I think a serial killer got Sal!” She pulled out an old version of the Salamanders’ mascot costume. “Look, he’s been beheaded!”
Tillie leaned in for a closer look. “Someone did a great job curling his fake eyelashes before they did the deed. And his blush is impeccable.”
“Huh. You’re right.” Maddie studied the mascot head carefully. “That’s strange. I wonder what this was.”
“Alien autopsy?” Tillie quipped and brushed some dust off the box label. “It says ‘Mascot Prototype.’ Prototype? They had someone on staff who knew that word and how to spell it? Must’ve been before Rory’s time.”
“Wait a second.” Maddie flipped on her phone’s flashlight and turned the beam on the mascot head. This is a female salamander. I can’t believe it! Sal must have started out as a ‘Sally!’ My aunt and I were just talking about this idea. Introducing a girl mascot to play off Sal.”
Tillie chuckled. “OK, that would be what my grandma calls a hoot. Plus, it would be so easy to promote.”
“Exactly! I know this sounds gruesome, but let’s keep looking and see if we can find Sally’s body.”
For the next two hours, they opened box after box. A weirdly large number of them were filled with dented stainless-steel bowls stamped with “Sweetgum Elementary Cafeteria” on the bottom.
“We can use these as water dishes for Dog Day,” said Maddie.
“After we clean them with a blow torch,” Tillie added.
Another box was full of rainbow-colored envelopes with matching cards engraved with “Love is….” and smiley faces next to the text.
“Oh, this is tragic,” Tillie showed the stationary to Maddie. “A clown couple must have lost their wedding invitations.”
Maddie snorted and kept digging. A few items were noteworthy. Some cartons of glow-in-the-dark rubber salamanders. Plastic bags filled with about a hundred Sliding Salamander Hawaiian shirts—from the good old days when they had sponsors who would pay for them and fans who would come to the games and wear them.
Several large bins were labeled “Thermal Mugs.” At first, Maddie was ecstatic at the thought of a ready-made giveaway, but the cups turned out to have nothing to do with the Manders. Not even a team logo. Just cartoon drawings of various condiments titled “Mr. Hot Dog and His Friends.”
“Maybe we could use these on Flying Hot Dog Fridays.” Maddie held up a mug and imitated the pose of Mr. Mustard who was pretending to surf for no apparent reason. “Give them to one lucky row each Friday.”
“This is starting to depress me,” said Tillie.
Maddie patted her arm. “We’re almost done. There’s just one shelving unit left.”
The wobbly, rusting metal shelves contained nothing but crumpled boxes stuffed with neon green T-shirts. Maddie pulled one out and held it up for Tillie. The front read “Make 7” and the back read “Up Yours” and had a graphic of Sal taking a swig from a pop bottle.
Tillie’s eyebrows shot up, and she squinted to read the print. “Somebody thought it was a good idea to have ‘Up Yours’ as their advertising campaign?”
“It was an early 2000s thing. Technically the slogan was ‘Make 7-Up Yours.’”
“And you somehow know about bad advertising campaigns from your infancy?”
“My dad thought it was hilarious and bought a shirt at the Spencer Gifts in the mall near our house. He wore it to cut the grass ever since I was little. Mom finally threw it away a couple years ago.”
Maddie felt a wave of homesickness. She had been so busy she had hardly talked to her parents. To be honest, she still felt embarrassed about her life and recent failures. But she really missed them. Her dad’s absurd sense of humor and her mom’s love of books. They were both old movie buffs, too. She’d give anything for a cozy movie night at home, watching screwball comedies on TCM while a pot of homemade tomato sauce with Italian sausage simmered on the stove, making the whole house smell like heaven.
Anything wrong, boss? You look a million miles away.”
Maddie shook herself. “A little homesick. But it’s fine! Really. Thanks for asking.”
“Must be nice.”
The melancholy in Tillie’s response distressed Maddie. She decided it was time to lighten the mood again.
“You know, we could put some of this random stuff together and use it for a ‘Halfway to Christmas’ promotion. Call it White Elephant gifts from the Manders to their fans.
Tillie brightened. “Yeah! And we should give away ALL these crappy 7-Up tees. Make it Vintage T-shirt Night. Send a few shirts to the Manders Matter podcasters and tell them it's a special gift from Monty. I bet they’d end up doing most of our publicity for free.”
“You’re a genius, Tillie. I mean it. I’m so glad the White House press office didn’t get you and I did. Maybe there is some justice in this country. Oh! You know what else? We can make an ‘Up Yours’ photo wall so people can take pictures in the shirts and share them. Schedule it for next Wednesday when we play our dreaded rivals, the Rocket City Trash Pandas. Dare we call it ‘Up Yours Night’?”
“Sounds appropriate for this team.” Tillie lowered her mask and wiped her face with her sleeve. “By the way, I found out about the attendance. Our stadium holds 10,000 people, and the average attendance for the last season was 850.”
Maddie did a double take. “850? Not even a thousand people are coming to the games? I thought the Manders Matter guys were exaggerating. Has Sweetgum had a bout of the Black Plague? I’m hoping?”
“No reports of Black Plague on TikTok, so I’m thinking it’s just a sucky team at a sucky park with sucky promotions.”
Maddie took a long breath and started coughing again from all the dust. “Yikes!” she sputtered. “Or rather, good. That means we have nowhere to go but up.”
“This place is a mess,” Tillie said. “The whole team is. But you and me—we’re not. That’s what I’m learning in this job. We can turn this ship around. Starting with the Dog Day Opener on Tuesday. Anyone who donates to the animal shelter gets to upgrade their seats. At least fill up the lower level for once.”
“I love that! Let’s do it.” Maddie didn’t want to make too big a show of it, but she was touched by Tillie’s vote of confidence. They had a synergy that was building. She allowed herself a short fantasy of being the GM of the Cubs with Tillie as her VP of Operations. Unless Tillie was already President of the United States, which Maddie thought was entirely possible. Well, why not? It was fun to have big dreams again.
Tillie took off her rubber gloves and chucked them in the trash. “I’ll go to the shelter this afternoon and start taking pictures of animals to post and get the word out. Maybe they can bring a few pets that need adopting to the ballpark. Would that be all right?”
“Excellent idea, but one more thing. Take a couple Salamander baseball hats. Let’s make those dogs and cats look like fans.”
“On it!” Tillie sped out the door.
Maddie took one last look around to see if they had missed anything useful. Nothing much. Until she spied a lump in one corner, covered in old sheets. When she pulled back the sheets, she felt a slight thrill to see green Naugahyde and four green fingers.
“There you are, Sally!” Maddie shook the fake lizard’s hand and grinned. “So nice to meet you.”
***
“Tell me again why we’re doing a costume fitting outside in this miserable humidity.”
Maddie had taken the Sally suit to her aunt’s house, and they were standing in the backyard while Esme measured for alterations. “It’s a sauna made of pleather in this lizard suit.”
“Quit complaining. It’ll be much hotter at the games in July and August. I’m trying to get you used to the heat in increments. Plus I want to make sure whatever you wear works under this costume.”
“What about when someone else wears it? My intern, Tillie, is going to be Sally sometimes when I can’t do it. She’s a bit taller than I am.”
“Well, good for you for delegating!” Esme said. “There’s some wiggle room in here. We can make it work, I’m sure.”
“You’re the best. Have I mentioned that lately?” Maddie lifted the mascot head off and smoothed her damp hair away from her face. “I can’t believe I’m sweltering in my shorts and T-shirt. You were right about wearing a bathing suit. Get me out of this thing and I’ll go inside and change.”
Esme unzipped the back of the costume and let Maddie out.
“Back in a jiffy!” Maddie sprinted up the backstairs.
Where does that girl get all her energy? Esme wondered, but she was happy to see her niece rebounding from a dark time in her life. Despair from failure and rejection could become a deathtrap that Esme knew all too well. She had seen it plenty of times in the theater. She was thankful that Maddie could stay with family while she found her way again. It was fun having her around.
Esme loved her life in Sweetgum and all the connections she had made, but when Maddie came to town, she brought an electrical charge with her. Esme could feel a new tingle of excitement, a change in the air. It reminded her of the song “Something’s Coming” from West Side Story, one of her favorite showtunes.
“Could be, who knows? There’s something due any day, I will know, right away, soon as it shows.” Esme sang softly to herself as she worked. She had a knack for throwing together costumes, and this one didn’t take a lot of technical skill. She had made several large bows and frilly little skirts that could be slipped on by adjusting the Velcro on the waist. And she had plans for an exaggeratedly large baseball mitt. That would be enough to get Sally Salamander started.
A noise from the other side of her duplex distracted her. She hoped it wasn’t Cooper, her neighbor who played Sal, about to make a nuisance of himself. She didn’t want him butting into the Sally preparations. He had an insufferable ego and a ridiculously high opinion of himself. He’d be sure to hit on Maddie, too. Why so many women fell for raging narcissists was beyond Esme. She didn’t think Maddie was susceptible, but she didn’t trust Cooper all the same.
“Cooper? That you?” she called out. “We’re working out here and we’d rather not be disturbed right now. Thanks!”
She couldn’t tell if he was moving around in his kitchen, spying on them, or if the curtain at his window was simply fluttering in the breeze.
“I’m back!” Maddie bounded out the screened door and it clattered behind her. “Feels weird to wear a swimsuit in April. I’m used to winter lasting until June and then it gets ungodly hot immediately. Spring lasts about two hours in Chicago.”
“Oh, I remember. Such a short spring after such a long winter. Let’s get you back in the suit. I know you have work to do back at the ballpark. I’ll make this quick.”
Secretly, Esme thought her niece looked a little too good in her two-piece bathing suit and wanted to get her out of Cooper’s sight lines ASAP.
The kitchen curtains at his window flapped again. But it might have been the wind. Esme certainly hoped so.
***
The bell over the door in the hardware store jangled as Maddie pushed the door open. Carlton was in a catcher’s squat near the door, stocking the bottom shelves. Maddie couldn’t help but notice how well his uniform pants stretched over his backside as she cleared her throat to get his attention.
“Welcome to Wilde Hardware. How can I help you?” Carlton turned his head to greet the incoming customer. A smile lit his face when he saw Maddie. Scrambling to his feet he said, “Hey! You’re just in time! I’ve been tinkering with some ideas for your dog launcher. Come on over and I’ll show you.”
Maddie followed Carlton to a polished glass-top counter with an antique brass cash register as its centerpiece. An open sketch book revealed several detailed drawings of the proposed Hot Dog Cannon. Maddie’s favorite part was the little arrow at one end of the illustrated device that said, “flying hot dogs.”
Carlton pulled a mechanical drafting pencil out of his breast pocket and explained the other squiggles on the paper. “It’s pretty simple. Some PVC pipe—that’s the plastic pipe that plumbers use—and a propellant—like nitrogen. That should do the trick.
“I love it! Can we make one right now?” she asked.
“It’s been a slow day at the store. I’m sure Dad wouldn’t mind if we devoted some time to the greater cosmic good that is baseball.”
Carlton went up and down the aisles, picking items up and arranging them on the counter. Maddie watched and admired his concentration. She was delighted that he was willing to throw himself into her schemes and play along with her. It was definitely different from his behavior during the podcast interview. She wondered if she should bring up their day at Wrigley Field. No. Too risky. This was a public place and anyone could walk in at any moment.
Once Carlton stopped collecting, he started assembling and explained what he was doing as he went along. “Now the cannon is made from the pipe. It’s lightweight and just the right size for a hot dog in a bun and wrapped in foil. Three feet long should be about right. We stick the hot dog in the pipe. Then we attach a canister of nitrogen to the back and add a hose from the canister to the trigger.”
“Trigger?” Maddie asked. “So, we literally are going to be able to shoot hot dogs into the crowd?”
“Well, yeah. I thought that was the whole idea. Don’t worry. It’s not like a shotgun or anything. It’s a trigger for an air blast nozzle like they use in car body shops. And it blows in bursts, not constantly, so we can send those hot dogs on their way when we choose. We’ll have to shoot them individually, though, and reload between dogs.”
“That’ll work!” Maddie grinned. Flying Dog Fridays was becoming a reality. “We’ll just get an insulated thermal bag and fill it with hot dogs before we go out on the field.”
“Good idea. And someone else can carry the cannon and a backpack with the canister and hose.”
“Um, Carlton, I know you said the nitrogen is a propellant, but I’m not sure I get it. How do we know the hotdogs will fly into the stands and not just pop up and land at our feet?”
“Sorry. I’m so used to working with construction folks, sometimes I forget to explain things. The valve on the nitrogen canister controls the PSI.” Carlton looked like he thought this made everything clear.
Maddie shook her head, more confused. “PSI? Pandas Seeing Infrared? People Singing Indecently? What the hell is PSI?”
“Petulant Squirrel Insurrection.” Carlton waited a beat, and Maddie realized he was joking and laughed. She flashed back to Wrigley Field, again. Their chemistry was still there. She could feel it. Or she thought she could. When could they talk privately? Was she avoiding it? Was she scared?
“Sorry again. PSI is Pounds per Square Inch,” said Carlton. “The higher the PSI, the farther the hot dog goes. I’m thinking 30 PSI would go about 30 feet. It would take around 100 PSI to go about 60 feet. That should get you in the second tier of the stands. Much more than that and we would shred the hot dogs as they came out of the pipe. Anyway, that is how one builds a Hot Dog Cannon. What do you think?”
Maddie applauded and whistled. “Oh my God! I can’t tell you how happy this makes me! You deserve an award. Like a Gold Glove, but for flying hot dogs. Maybe MVPDD. Most Valuable Projectile Dog Design.”
Carlton leaned back against the counter, his legs casually crossed at the ankle and his hands stuffed in his uniform pants pockets, which showed off his arms. Maddie reached out and touched his shoulder. “And if this works, you’ve earned yourself a chipwich at the Dairy Grille. Any flavor you want.”
Carlton held out his hand. “You’ve got a deal.”
Maddie clasped his hand firmly. She thought about that one kiss with him in Chicago. Touching him now was just as intoxicating as it was then. She made herself focus on the task at hand.
“Just to be clear. The nitrogen makes the hot dogs fly. That means I need a supply of nitrogen canisters?” she asked.
“Yeah, set the valve and the nitrogen will do the rest. Are you paying for all this yourself? That’s not right.”
“Just for now. I think I can get Benson’s Meat and Mingle to donate the hotdogs and maybe reimburse me for the launcher supplies. If this is a hit.”
“Well, the nitrogen is in aisle seven. If you want to grab a few more, we can add them to your stash.”
“Got it, Professor. Maybe we can practice at the ballpark later? Are you free after work? If all goes well with the PSI, we can stop those petulant squirrels at the stadium from starting an insurrection!” After she said it, Maddie worried that she sounded too flirty.
Before Carlton could answer, the bell above the door rang again. Cooper Kinsman sauntered in, wearing a leather motorcycle jacket and jeans with holes in the knees. Maddie remembered Esme’s warnings about Cooper. She darted down aisle seven so he wouldn’t know she was there, but found a spot where she could see and hear him.
“Hey, man,” Cooper nodded at Carlton as he took off his aviator sunglasses.
“Hey, Coop. Aren’t you awfully hot in that jacket?”
“Got to keep my brand in mind, buddy. And thanks for calling me hot.”
Carlton rubbed a hand over his mouth and Maddie snickered. “Not exactly what I meant, but what do you need?”
“I’m planning ahead. Making some personalized Christmas ornaments for my fan club this year. I figure I can cut a circle with a jigsaw, drill a hole for a ribbon, and slap my picture on there. I can sell them for twenty bucks, and they only cost about 50 cents to make. Pretty sweet, huh? I need some new jigsaw blades, though.”
Maddie was mortified that this asshole was planning to make money off Manders fans. And calling them his fans was a travesty! She found it hard to believe the tacky ornaments actually would go for twenty dollars.
“Glad I caught you here alone, dude. I’d like to run something by you.”
“Sure thing, Coop.”
“Just a courtesy to you really. Man-to-man. As the two most eligible bachelors in town. We gotta look out for each other, right?”
“What do you mean?”
“I just wanted to ask. You’re not interested in Maddie Fields are you?”
A cold wave of terror passed through Maddie’s whole body.
“What makes you ask?”
“Well, I saw her and Esme working on the Sally Salamander outfit—”
“The what?”
“It’s a new thing Maddie’s planning. A female mascot mate for Sal. She sees how popular I am, and she’s looking to cash in on it. I don’t blame her. Smart marketing decision.”
“And what does that have to do with being ‘interested’ in her?”
Cooper leaned in close like he was telling Carlton a big secret. So full of himself that Maddie wanted to slap him. “She wore a bikini for the fitting. I think she knew I was next door at my kitchen window. She was putting on quite a show. Don’t be fooled by those sloppy cut-offs and dumb T-shirts. She’s got a killer bod. A real dime.”
Mortified did not come close to describing the state Maddie found herself in now. It was bad enough that Cooper was spying on her with gross intentions, but then he had to tell Carlton. Maybe there was a trap door nearby that led to the cellar so she could escape. She didn’t relish facing Carlton after this conversation. And yet, she wanted desperately to know the answer to Cooper’s question. How would Carlton handle his reply knowing she could hear?
“Cooper, this conversation is just getting weird. What is your point?”
Nice dodge, Maddie thought, but she was disappointed.
“Just letting you know I’m going to nail that. Not only is Maddie hot, she’s ambitious. She’s going places. I’m going to ride her coat tails, follow her to Chicago. She’ll be able to set me up as the new Sox mascot—Mr. Sockhead—and life will be good. Think of all the big city chicks and money.”
Carlton barely stifled a laugh. “Good plan, Cooper. How could she possibly resist you?”
“I know that, man, but I thought I’d do the honorable thing and check with you first. But let’s be real. If it came down to the two of us, she’s going to go with the ambitious entrepreneur who’s looking to the future, not the washed-up, has-been pitcher working at the hardware store. No offense, man.”
Maddie almost lost her cool and shouted her disgust aloud. What an awful thing for anyone to say! She was sorely tempted to come out and kiss Carlton long and hard on the lips in front of Cooper. That would be really fun, but she restrained herself.
“How could that possibly be offensive, Cooper? But you do know she’s a Cubs fan, right? I’m pretty sure she’s aiming for the North Side, not the South Side of Chicago.”
“No way! The Cubs mascot is a cutesy little bear. Clark!” Cooper said the name derisively. “Not sexy at all. Mr. Sockhead is cool. Mr. Sockhead has an edge.”
Carlton cocked his head to one side. “He’s a sock. A big gray sock.”
“Yeah. Obvious phallic symbol, man! But non-threatening. Chicks love it. Mr. Sockhead is a babe magnet. Believe me, I’ve seen it.”
“I honestly don’t know what to say.”
“Clark’s a candy-ass bear waving around that stupid ‘W’ flag.” Cooper paced furiously back and forth. “OK, OK. No need to panic. I’ll convince her to change plans. I can be pretty persuasive in the sack. Know what I’m sayin’? Yeah, this is gonna be no problemo. Thanks for the heads-up. And for knowing when you’re beat. You’re a class act.”
Carlton turned his back on Cooper and walked over to pick up a package of jigsaw blades. “Well, I can’t compete with your style. Here, take these blades for free. Think of them as a thank you for being upfront with me about your plans.”
“Thanks, my dude. I knew you’d understand.” Cooper slipped the saw blades into his pocket and walked out the door.
Carlton burst into wild laughter the second the door closed. “You can come out now, Maddie. Ding dong, the asshat’s gone!”
Maddie was red-faced, from anger and embarrassment, when she came back to meet Carlton at the counter. “It’s not funny! That insufferable dick. Putting on a show for him? As if I had a single thought about some jerk-off peeking at me! Just thinking about him makes me queasy. And what he said about you was horrible! Who does he think he is?”
“Apparently the future Mr. Sockhead. Thanks to Maddie, his dime piece.”
“That’s just vile.”
“No question. But it’s a little bit funny, don’t you think? Not his harassment of you, obviously. But the idea that he thinks being Mr. Sockhead could be like … Derek Jeter?”
Maddie’s outrage gave way to a laugh of disbelief. “OK, that is somewhat…” More laughter bubbled up from her stomach. “He’s pathetic! I bet he’s planning a gift bag to give out to women the morning after...”
“I really hope it includes one of those great plywood ornaments.” Carlton was practically wheezing, he was laughing so hard.
Maddie laughed harder, too. “You know, I’d be more upset if I thought he could really do this, but he’s completely delusional.”
“He’s probably got a lawyer drawing up NDAs for him. I hope it costs him.”
Once Maddie let herself really laugh, she couldn’t stop. It took a few minutes for her to recover, and Carlton was the same. When they were breathing normally again, Carlton said, “I don’t want to be out of line, but be careful. If he ever tries anything with you—”
Maddie was touched and honestly excited by his chivalry, but she rolled her eyes. “Yeah, that’s never going to happen. I’d fuck a Yankee player before I’d go out with Cooper Kinsman. Sorry, sometimes my Chicago Girl language comes out when I’m pissed.”
“I get it, Fields. And I see that evil twinkle in your eye. What does it mean?”
“It means—not only will Cooper Kinsman never catch me, but Sal the Salamander is about to meet his match, too. Sally is not going to play nice.”
“I can hardly wait to watch. And yes, by the way.” He handed her a large shopping bag filled with her supplies and she paid the bill.
“Yes?” She blinked, trying to recall the question.
“We can practice the Hot Dog Cannon after work. See you at the Pickle Jar at 6:30? If you still want to.”
“The Pickle Jar!” Maddie squealed. “That’s the nickname for the stadium? Oh, that is outstanding! See you then. And thanks again!” She wanted to hug him and she started to, but then thought better of it. And he started to do the same but apparently couldn’t decide if it was OK or not, so they did an awkward little dance and then scooted away from each other and waved.
“See you at the Pickle Jar!” Maddie repeated unnecessarily. Then she headed out the door, heart racing. Who knew a Hot Dog Cannon could be so stimulating?
RELATED ART
If only…
Who wouldn’t want to go to a ballpark named the Pickle Jar?
(Art: AI-generated images from Rob Mitchell)
Cooper’s actually right. Mr. Sockhead has an edge.
CASTING CALL: THE ACTORS IN OUR IDEAL WILDE PITCH CAST
Lucas Hedges as Cooper Kinsman
INSPIRATION
“Make 7-Up Yours” was a marketing campaign created by Young & Rubicam ad agency. Comedian and actor Orlando Jones starred in the TV ads. The spots focused on quirky scenarios like nudist camps in an attempt to make the brand feel sexy and appeal to a younger demographic. The campaign premiered during the 2000 Super Bowl broadcast.
The weirdly generic thermal mugs that Maddie finds in the Manders storage room really exist. The mugs were handed out to disappointed fans (including the Wilde Pitch authors) at a Louisville Redbirds game in the 1980s. The Redbirds were a farm team for the St. Louis Cardinals at the time.
PLAYLIST
For Cooper:
Carly Simon - You're So Vain - YouTube
George Thorogood & The Destroyers - Bad To The Bone - YouTube
OK, Cooper is not really a “Dangerous Type”, but he thinks he is.
