The Sandwiches of Doom

Author Unknown

June 2, 2023

I remember those sandwiches--
They numbered three.
Every time I think of them,
I feel the pain (and perhaps empathy for those around me) quite clearly.

The first one was from Subway,
A restaurant that I now enjoy,
But back then, I despised it—for it was squishy,
And something I’d wanted to avoid.

We had trekked along a portion of “Chang Cheng,”
Our sandwiches in tow,
But when we arrived back at the bottom,
Water had spilled on them—oh no.

As a picky six-year-old, you can only imagine,
What this tragedy did to me,
And my, um—terrible? Reaction.
That you probably would not have wanted to see.

The second happened upon me more often than I wished,
For it came in the form of
Miracle whip;
And trust me—that stuff is not sent from above.

It’s no miracle, but rather the opposite,
An insult to good mayonnaise,
Despite its predominance.
I’m sorry if I’m a little a set in my ways.

Many say that sweet is good with salty,
But the bread is already sweet!
Why would something so faulty,
Be paired with a masterpiece—a treat!

Finally, the third one appeared when I was in a play.
I was to eat a barbecued sandwich,
And finish it on the way.
This proclamation caused my voice to pitch.

As it happened, I did not finish until we arrived there.
So, I sat and waited until it was my turn,
But I never made it down the stairs,
For I promptly threw up and had to leave—I never did return.

It was not the sandwich that caused this event,
But I could taste it as it flew out.
However, to this day, I like it—the memory leaves me no discontent,
But I never again want to taste it mixed with stomach acids and flying out of my mouth.

Dear friends, I hope your sandwiches are always suitable.
That you may love them and always consume,
Sandwiches which are indisputable,
And most of all—that you may never taste the sandwiches of doom.