Inheritance Sandwich

by Shinobaka

I got home late from work last night, and even though my stomach was growling, I really didn’t want to cook.

So I made myself a sandwich.

I started off with a couple slices of Tolkien brand bread. They were a bit stale, but I didn’t feel like opening a new package. Bread wouldn’t be enough to satisfy my hunger, I was sure, so I opened up the refrigerator. I was in luck, and there was still some of the Star Wars style roast beef I’d had for dinner four nights ago. I cut off a couple of thick chunks, and slapped ‘em on the bread, making sure to sprinkle on just a little originality salt. Not too much, though, as I didn’t want to ruin it, but I used a healthy helping of cliché pepper to add spice.

Still not satisfied with my creation, I poked my head in the fridge again, and came out with an open package of Pern cheese, from which I added a couple of crumbling slices. As I put the cheese back, I remembered the lettuce. I had two kinds—Earthsea and Belgariad—and wasn’t sure which to use, so I threw on a few wilting leaves of each.

Adding in a few more little things from the fridge, I declared my sandwich complete and bit into it. I ate the whole thing because I was hungry, but it was awfully bland. When I finished it, I was still hungry, so I made another. This time I used more salt, but somehow it all seemed to collect in a few specific spots, which I had to spit out, and in the end it was even blander than the first.

After that, I wasn’t hungry anymore, but now I was frustrated. The things I used had been delicious when I had first opened their packages and eaten them. Surely with such wonderful ingredients I could make a delicious sandwich! After all, I had already made two edible sandwiches: that made me a culinary genius.

I set to work on my third sandwich.