Category Archives: sandwiches

And now, a story about a sandwich…

It’s Superbowl Sunday, and that can only mean one thing; I’m gonna write about the shittiest sandwich I’ve ever made. Also, those two things have precisely dick to do with each other.

Also, let’s just get this out of the way early. I got a lot of hits last time from people searching for pictures of Katherine Heigl in a bra…and I like getting hits.


So anyway, this story harkens back to the glorious mid-1990’s. I’m about 12 or 13 years old, and both of my parents are at work. I’m home alone, hungry, and apparently not too bright. Also, in desperate need of groceries. I scour the kitchen like a…dude who scours places…for things…maybe Indiana Jones, I don’t know, I just know I was fucking hungry.

So I found two heels of bread, that’s a good start. Next I find a piece of bologna. This bologna was past its prime, but not quite rotten. You know how bologna starts turning all leathery when you leave it in the fridge too long? Well, there was a soft patch in the middle about the size of a quarter. Now, I’ve told this story before, and was asked “why didn’t you just make a bologna sandwich?” I honestly can’t answer that. Needless to say, I did not. I kept looking…and finding. I then found some cream cheese, or as I like to call it “America’s favorite condiment”…and I kept looking. The final component of what would come to be called “The Hell Sandwich” was a packet of Arby’s Sauce. You know, that red shit they put on roast beef sandwiches.

Fuck you, Arby's sauce, you ruined my life.

Naturally, making a sandwich out of these ingredients is a sickening proposal. That’s why I put it in the electric sandwich machine. A few minutes later, I had two scalding hot triangles of pure hate. Hate with charred edges. I took my terrible new meal back to the sofa to consume in front of some terrible syndicated evening television (probably COPS reruns) and, naturally, bit in without letting it cool. What came flooding into my mouth has been officially dubbed “molten terror”. A union of bologna drippings, Arby’s sauce, and melted cream cheese of indeterminate age. It was about 8000 degrees, and tasted like magma that had been stored in a dead hobo’s ass.

I can’t believe I ate the whole thing.


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