Gary and Danny
the Cheese Sandwich Go to Hell
by George Haerle
Every slice of
bread dreams of one day becoming a regal sandwich.
They watch their brothers and sisters pulled out
of the bag every day wondering, “When will
it be my turn? Will I be used for a grand roast
beef sub? Or a delectable piece of French
toast? Every a slice of bread takes pride in
fulfilling its purpose; by filling a hungry
stomach and bringing a smile with that first bite.
Just like people, they have hopes and dreams too.
But just like everyone else these hopes and
dreams eventually will crash and burn. This is a
tale of a cheese sandwich gone wrong.
Gary and Danny
wanted to scream with excitement. They had grown
up together since they were flour and yeast, into
two strapping slices of fluffy white bread. They
had finally been chosen, and overjoyed at the
possible wonders of their future.
“Twenty
bucks we’re pastrami! Toasted with deli
mustard! They look like they might celebrate
Ramadan.” Gary gleefully yelled to his
brother.
“Oh, that
would be wonderful! Just like Grandpa Rye!”
But when they
were carelessly slapped on the cutting board,
they realized something was wrong.
“Ugh…My
head. Danny, are you all right? What happened?”
“We were…
Just tossed onto the cutting board. Who would do
such a thing?” They watched the giant above
them take out a knife and a big block of cheese.
“Hey! Cheese is good, maybe we’ll be
grilled or used with deli meats!”
“Alright,
that’s not bad but just keep an eye on what
else she grabs from the fridge,” Gary was
gasping for air, his crust still shaking from the
fall.
They sat and
watched, as all she did was slice away at the big
white brick. No meats, condiments, lettuce or
tomato. JUST. CHEESE. A smaller giant came
into the room, watching the larger one cut the
cheese (ha!). Gary and Danny gasped in horror as
the truth tore their fluffy wheat hearts out. The
smaller giant’s booming words were like
trumpets on judgment day: “Mom, not a
cheese sandwich again!”
“Cheese
sandwich! What?!” Danny screamed bloody
murder.
“Cheese?!
That’s it?! That’s more bland and white
than Mitt Romney!” Gary raged.
“You
bitch!”
“Burn in
Hell!”
Like dying
villains at the end of a bad Seagal movie, their
anger turned to begging mercy.
“Please,
if you have any humanity, just a slice of lettuce,
please! Just a drop, a DROP, of mustard!”
Danny begged.
“I have a
wife and two children! I don’t like them
very much but it’s a better life than this!”
Gary cried. As they were bound to the only dairy
product they would ever know (except for possibly
some milk), they once again began to shout in
hate at the gods who had forsaken them.
“Our
brothers will avenge us! I hope they make you
choke on a ham sandwich like Mama Cass!”
Danny was slipped into a pink, girly, plastic bag.
Gary had to
get in the last punch, “Kiss my doughy ass
woman! And you, wee one in the plaid uniform! You’re
just another brick in the w-“ His final
words were cut off as Gary was stuffed into a
plastic bag, never to be heard from again.
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