Hotdog Queen

In all the time we've been observing the comings and goings of suicidefood royalty, we have never once seen a noticeably female monarch.

Until now.

This gives us the sociological opportunity we've been waiting for, the chance to compare the reign of female vs. male "food" animals. Or, in the case of the Hotdog Queen, undead food. (Recall that we never include hamburgers, frankfurters, and miscellaneous reconstituted foodstuffs among the ranks of true suicidefood. They are more like reanimated food, already dead, now "alive" again.)

Is a queen kinder than a king? Will she rule with compassion, rather than cunning? Will her people live beneath a banner of justice instead of the flag of empire?

Don't be misled by the queen's trampy casual costume, sunny disposition, and cheap, everywoman perm.

No matter how much more nurturing, caring, and tender she might be—how womanly—still she leads her loyal subjects straight into the bun. Her people are just as dead, and just as eaten, as those of any king.