Friday, November 18, 2005
"Success, triumph, victory!" says Giblets layin down the last slice a pumpernickel. "We are lords of lunchmeat, conquistadors of the culinary! For we and we alone have built the world's largest free-standing sandwich!"
"Very true," says me. "At six miles tall it easily beats the previous record of famed renaissance lunch architect Arturo Oppendoff, whose Sandwich Cathedral was never appreciated in his time."
"He was decried as an apostate by Pope Byzantine the Puzzled," says Giblets, "for the heresy of constructing a sandwich so great it would challenge the divine."
"And so he climbed all the way to the top slice," says me, "and was welcomed into heaven by a benevolent and bready creator."
"Today he is the patron saint of cold cuts and lies in neat slices at the buffet of the celestials," says Giblets. "When he goes bad the earth mourns with three months of winter!"
"Our sandwich will spread joy and confusion all over the land," says me. "Children will come from all over an say 'mommy is that God?' an she'll say 'no honey that's just his sandwich'."
"Future generations will form whole cultures around this sandwich," says Giblets. "It will stand as a reminder of a lost age of titans, when mystical demigods wore the gift of foot-long fingernails, when midget horses roamed the earth beside the world's fattest twins and men wore beards of bees!"
"But will it inspire future man to greater sandwichness or will it intimidate him from approaching the lunchular arts at all?" says me.
"No greater glory is possible than this, the epitome of sandwich!" says Giblets. "Mankind will resign himself to a world in which every noontime meal is but a pale imitation of this edifice of eats!"
"What about that one over there?" says me. Out by the horizon is a tall an growing tower of stacked rye an processed meat byproducts.
"Impossible!" says Giblets. "Who dares defy our snackular supremacy!"
"I don't think it's a sandwich at all," says me. "I think it's the necessary and dialectical reaction to our sandwich."
"It's the Hegelian antithesis of sandwich!" says Giblets. "While the sandwich is edible, delicious, inanimate and innocuous, the antisandwich is inedible, disgusting, mobile and predatory!"
"It's not made of warm sliced bread and fresh lettuce," says me. "It's made of mold and tooth decay and corrupt zoning officials."
"It's headed this way!" says Giblets. "Man the battle stations! Launch the porkpedos! The enemy must be destroyed!"
"No, Giblets," says me. "Sandwich and antisandwich must collide in a tasty contest of wills from which a bold new sandwich of synthesis will emerge!"
"But this new sandwich order - what will it taste like?" says Giblets.
"The future, Giblets," says me. "It will taste like the future."
And ten thousand years later... IT DID. WEEEEEEOOOOOOOOOOOO!
Labels: true adventures
posted by fafnir at 6:32 PM