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The Sandwich
    an absurdity by Greg

 ok. how about.... a guy goes out to get lunch for himself and say, his
brother.  whiles he's out, something horrible happens to his brother.
let's say he dies. He feels awful. het gets home, the police are there
and he's hysterical.among all the confusion, he runs into the house,
throws his sandwiches into the fridge, and frantically ponders what to
do? what will he tell his parents?  anyway, he gets back from the
hospital, all hysterical and whatnot, and he goes to the fride.  the
sandwiches.  He's really hungry.  but what does he do with the
sandwiches? he eats his.  "mmmmmmmmmm... eggsalad." anyway, he starts
thining that if he hadn't gone to get those damn sandwiches, this whole
thing would never have happened.  so what does he do with the sandwich he
got for his brother?  his brother died because of this sandwich. some
bread, bologna and cheese pretty much killed his brother.  he's really
hungry.  he didn't eat lunch, he missed dinner because he was hysterical
at the hospital.  what does he do with this other sandwich, the one his
brother wanted. "No, goddamnit! i said bologna and cheese!" the infernal
words echo through his head. why didn't he call for pizza? what does he
do with this other sandwich.  He wouldn't feel right eating it. His dead
brother wanted it, and he died because of it.  But he's really hungry
because his brother dying made hime miss two meals, and he never eats
breakfast. He thinks. Maybe  he can keep it as a symbol of the last thing
his brother asked him for.  But how long could he keep a sandwich? plus,
money was tight as it is, and if there's one think his brother hated, it
was wasting food.  Maybe he could freeze dry it. But everytime he looked
at it in its glass case with the sig "the sandwich that killed my
brother", it would kill him.  No way.  He'd feel better if he just threw
it out. He doesn't know what to do.  Too many options. too many emotions.
he puts it away and goes to sleep.  he'll think about it tomorrow.
        He gets up and immediately remembers the sandwich.  well, and his
dead brother. Hour after hour, day after day, the sandwich controls his
very existence. he doesn't know what the hell to do with it.  Finally,
after much heart-felt deliberation, he decides."My dead brother's bologna
and cheese," he thinks as he stares blankly at the namesake of the Earl
of Sandwich.  he opens the bag, pulls out the sandwich, sobbing.  tears
flowing, he takes a bite.  "Wait a minute! what the... Turkey and
Swiss!?"  He gets in the car, gets to Subway in about 56 seconds, goes
in, waving the sandwich madly and frantically screaming. "My fucking
brother dies over this sandwich and you don't even have the goddam common
decency to give me the right order. "I...I'm sorry.."the portly manager
tells him." there must've been some mix-up." He got somebody else's
turkey and swiss!  only one thought occupied his mind:  "Somebody out
there has my dead brother's bologna and cheese."