Tag Archives: sandwich

So many possibilities

You, give me five dollars. Go into your pocket, find five dollars, and then give it to me. I’ll make change. I’ve got change. And I’d like more change. More money. Yours. It’s either give me five dollars willfully, or face the possibility that I might go ahead and demand ten dollars, this time a little bit more aggressively. I’m not threatening. That’s just a possibility. The universe is full of possibilities. I’m just pointing out one rather peaceful possibility, you giving me five dollars, in contrast to a slightly more violent possibility, me taking ten dollars. Who am I to say what’s going to wind up happening? I’m no fortuneteller. I’m just a guy, standing in front of another guy, asking him to give up five dollars. Does that really sound like such a big deal?

And you. I’d like five dollars from you also. In addition, I’d like you to walk over to that deli and buy me a sandwich. Peppermill turkey on a hero, lettuce, tomato, mayo and mustard. And a soda. If it comes with a pickle, great, if not, I want a small bag of chips. And don’t think that I won’t be waiting outside, because I will be waiting outside. Again, I can’t predict the future, I mean, I can predict it, I just can’t tell how accurate those predictions will wind up being.

You. You heard all of that stuff I was saying to those other two guys, right? Well, I want all of the same stuff from you, but pick me up a couple of scratch-offs while you’re in there. Listen, you can put away that cell phone or you can keep dialing whatever number you’re dialing. I can put down my fist or I can clench it even tighter.

It’s crazy, all of the possibilities, all of the different scenarios I can imagine. You ever hear about any multiverse theories? Like just because something’s not happening in this universe doesn’t mean that it isn’t happening somewhere else. Actually, I think that it has to be happening somewhere else. Like there are an infinite amount of universes, one for each possibility. So while it’s almost crazy to think about me getting very, very violent over you not giving me five bucks, a sandwich, some Lotto tickets, and a ride home, it’s even crazier to think that somewhere in some parallel universe, that’s exactly what’s happening.

I’m no scientist, but if I were in your shoes, and I did subscribe to this multiverse mumbo-jumbo, I’d be doing everything in my power to make sure that this universe doesn’t wind up turning out to be that universe, the one where I start going off-the-wall nutso just because some knucklehead won’t hand over what amounts to less than twenty dollars worth of deli purchases, a quick ride home, and a very brief stop in your bathroom.

Because who’s to say, right? Like who’s to really say that I will or won’t do anything? You. Go over to that guy in the deli and tell him that I forgot to ask for onions on my sandwich. You. Make sure that that other guy over there is buying me the good scratch-offs, not those cheap-o dollar tickets. Because that wasn’t the deal. And if I wasn’t specific in this universe, well, I’m sure there are a near-infinite number of me lookalikes somewhere out there that would beg to differ.

And not the five dollar ones either, make them the tens, the big ones, the ones with thirty-two chances to win. That’s a lot of chances. Think about me maybe winning the jackpot. Somewhere it’s got to happen, right? I mean, statistically speaking, I should be rich somewhere out there, you know what I’m saying? Like, what’s thirty two chances times infinity?

Mike, you going to eat that sandwich?

Hey Mike, it’s Rob. I just wanted to ask you about that chicken parm hero you left in my fridge last night. Were you planning on coming back for that? Did you just forget it? Let me know, because I’ll eat it if you don’t want it. Or if you want me to bring it with me the next time I see you, I could do that too. Just, yeah, just let me know. All right. Bye.

Mike. I just got back from work and I’m starving. I’m looking right at that sandwich and I’m so tempted to just pop it in the microwave and dive in. Would that be OK? I don’t want you to show up later and to not have that sandwich. You did forget it, right? I’ll wait a little bit. Just call me back when you get this, OK? Thanks.

OK, so I waited a couple of hours but I couldn’t take it any longer, so I went out and got some McDonald’s. Swing by and pick up your food whenever you feel like it. Or just call me back, just shoot me a text, if you want me to hang on to it for you, if you’re not interested anymore, whatever. Do you want me to throw it in the freezer? The sauce might last a month in there, but the bread? I don’t think it’s going to thaw out well. I’ll just keep it where it is. Call me back.

So I think this is like the last day that we can possibly do something with this sandwich. I’d eat it today. It’s definitely not as fresh as it was when you put it in there, or even yesterday, but it’s totally edible. I lifted back the wax paper and swiped my finger through the corner – is that cool? I just wanted to taste it, to see if it’s still good. It’s still totally good, but I can tell it’s about to turn any second. I’ll eat it. I’ll still totally eat it. But if you want to eat it, seriously, that’s cool too. But one of us should eat it. It’s still perfectly good. Perfectly … acceptable.

All right Mike, I think we blew it here. Your sandwich has definitely passed over to the other side now. I’m not going to eat it. So, I mean, I don’t know what you’d want with it at this point, but I feel bad doing anything until you give me the go ahead. Hit me up. Thanks.

Mike, I know that I told you yesterday that the sandwich was bad, and yeah, it doesn’t look too great at all. The bread is definitely a little grayer than bread it supposed to look. But I did the finger test again today with the sauce and I’ve got to tell you, I’m pleasantly surprised. I probably wouldn’t eat the bread, maybe not the cheese either, but the chicken? The sauce? I think that’s potentially salvageable. What do you say? Call me up. Stop by. We can share it. Or you could take it back, it’s your sandwich.

OK, we’ve absolutely crossed the point of no return here. There’s mold all over. I don’t know if it started from the bread, or if it’s contaminated the whole sandwich, but it’s gross. The wax paper wasn’t doing a good enough job keeping everything together. Well, I don’t really know how long that sandwich would have lasted even if it were sealed. And a totally closed environment? That might have spelled the end of the bread even earlier. Anyway, it’s not happening. Just come by and throw it out, whenever you’re free.

Mike, the mold from your sandwich is starting to make me a little uneasy. It’s really splotchy, furry. I’m worried that it’s going to contaminate the rest of the food in my fridge. Can you come get rid of it, please?

Mike, I just had to throw out a pineapple. It was perfectly good. There’s no way that it should have been able to grow mold on it so soon. Mike, come by, take the sandwich, throw it out, bring me a new pineapple.

Mike, my cheese drawer is in bad shape here. You free later?

Mike, I can’t even open the fridge door anymore. It smells terrible, unbearable. Bring some bleach.

Mike, I threw it out.

Mike, I took it out of the trash and put it back in the fridge.

Mike, OK, yeah, I got rid of it. Sorry man. I’ll make you a new sandwich sometime. Are we cool?